The Birds and the Beasts
by RatchetSS2
Summary: When Ratchet discovers multiple mechs love him, he's forced to find out what's going on around the Ark that's making them all act strange... and kinky.
1. Chapter 1: Painful Pleasure

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** JazzxProwl (small RatchetxIronhide)

EnJoY!

* * *

><p>[ May 3rd - 4:23 AM ]<p>

Ratchet sat at his desk, slowly and tiredly sipping at a now-cold cube of energon, the datapad which he was reading's screen being the only light in the room besides the medic's optics.

He couldn't seem to peacefully recharge; he couldn't stop thinking about how strange Ironhide had been acting all joor... the way he just about was pinning him to the wall in the hallway, straddling his waist. His breath didn't smell like high grade, but he was sure acting like it. Then he remembered the way he leaned in to nip at his neck cables, causing the medic to jump out of both startlement and the wave of energy and heat that had just burst through his frame.

He remembered the way Ironhide's lips lingered loosely on Ratchet's... the way the medic himself was about to shut off his optics and just give in before Prowl wondered down the hallway and Ironhide walked away before anyone saw anything, let alone _do_ anything to the medic.

The memory faded as said mech opened the med bay doors with a loud "woosh".

Ratchet looked up from the wall he was staring at while daydreaming to lock optics with the tactician.

"Prowl." he said, standing up. "What are you doing here?"

"My servo's killing me... I was trying to avoid you at this time as much as I could, but I eventually cracked. I didn't want to wake you, but..." he looked up from his clenching servo to gaze at Ratchet. "... I see you're already up. What are you doing?"

"Oh, I just, couldn't recharge very well," he replied. He then got rather quiet, walking over to a berth and gesturing Prowl to sit on it.

"Hm. Is, there anything I can help you with?" the datsun offered.

"No, no... I'm fine, just had a strange day today. Or, yesterday, I should say."

Prowl let a tiny smile flicker across his faceplate, then sat down on the berth as Ratchet walked back over from retrieving a tool.

"So what did you do again?" the medic asked.

"I honestly do not know. I was fighting in the common training room, went a few rounds with Jazz and Bumblebee, but nothing more than what I usually do."

"Interesting..." the red and white mech mumbled almost to himself. Then he spoke up. "I think I see the problem."

Prowl looked down at where Ratchet was kneeling to look at his servo. He then saw the medic pull out a thick, metal "splinter", as the humans would probably call it, with thin, metal pliers and a confused look on his faceplate. He let out a gasping hiss of pain as Ratchet pulled the last of it out completely.

Ratchet immediately placed the "splinter" on a nearby tray and applied a cooling gel to the open wound in the palm of Prowl's servo.

"Sorry," he muttered. "But I had to get it out. If you hadn't come to see me, it would have for sure become infected, and I might have even had to replace your servo."

The tactician just looked at Ratchet with wide optics. "For a, a... _splinter_? That's rediculous... I didn't even _do_ anything - "

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this, thing..." he interrupted. "But while I examine it, I want you to go back to recharge and let your self-repairing systems work on it."

Prowl sighed at stood up. "Thanks, Ratch'. I owe you one."

Ratchet simply waved it off as Prowl turned and walked out the med bay, clenching his sore servo.

* * *

><p>Jazz looked over from the ceiling to the doors being opened, watching Prowl step through and still clenching his servo while letting the doors shut behind him.<p>

"Did ya get it fixed?" Jazz asked in a tired voice.

"Yes, it's fine," Prowl replied, looking up at the un-Jazz-y tone. "Are you okay?"

The saboteur laid back down on his back on the berth and sighed. "Yeah, Prowl..."

Prowl kept staring at him, eventually walking over, hopping on the berth, and placing both pedes on either side of his lover.

"You don't really look like it..." he whispered into his audio. He then licked it, earning a mewl from him and a firm grasp to his hip plating.

The tactician gasped himself, slightly surprised at Jazz's sudden movements. "...Ughh... something, on your mind?" he asked.

Jazz barely made out a muffled "No" as he dug his faceplate into Prowl's neck cables. "I just need you..."

Prowl smirked slightly and started digging digits into wires all over the Porsche's body. Jazz lifted both servos up around Prowl's shoulders and neck, bringing him down and planting a hot, wet, passionate kiss on the datsun's lips.

One servo went to play with a doorwing while the other groped the back of his neck. "Prowl..." he murmured, panting. "...Need... you..." he finished as they broke the kiss.

Prowl grinned and gazed down into that beautiful indigo visor on the handsome faceplate. He could tell the optic color was more deeper than normal, and it seemed as if Jazz was straining. He figured all his lover needed was just a nice, hard 'facing, but then the Porsche grabbed onto Prowl's hips and he clicked open his own interfacing panel.

Prowl heard a desperate cry escape Jazz's vocals. Although more than happy to oblige, Prowl wondered what was making Jazz so, energetic...

"Prowl..." the mech panted. "Take me... so hard... rough... uuughh..."

Prowl soon had his own panel open, spike emerging slowly as he stroked Jazz's erected one. He brushed the tip against the entrance of Jazz's valve, making him call out Prowl's name as he grit his denta. "PLEASE!" he shrieked. "PROWL..."

Prowl wasn't sure how just this was making the mech so aroused, but he thought of it as no big deal. He thrust his thick spike in as far as it could go, making Jazz scream as he pounded into it, faster, harder.

Prowl picked up the pace each time Jazz grunted and keened, eventually seeing the look of pain of his faceplate. He almost stopped thrusting completely as Jazz looked like he was about to explode, but the saboteur's overload took him with him.

"PLEEEEEASE...!" Jazz practically screamed as he overloaded hard.

Jazz bucked wildly upwards into Prowl's hips, looking into the his optics while still "in pain". Prowl kept thrusting his spike even faster, offlining his optics and feeling the tight, lubricant-soaked valve clench hard around it. He then felt the long, hot pulses of transfluid shooting out deep into the valve, making Jazz gasp even deeper and moan louder, denta still gritted.

Prowl's thrusts became weaker, and he soon fell limp on top of Jazz, groaning. He nipped at a nearby neck cable, earning a few mewls from the mech in the process.

He murmured Prowl's name again, rubbing his bare interfacing equipment against Prowl's. The datsun was a little surprised; usually, after an overload as hard as that, Jazz would be drifting off into recharge about now. He set the back of a servo across Jazz's chassis, similar to the act of a human placing it to someone's forehead to check their temperature. Prowl pulled it away with a look of shock... to make sure he felt it right he scanned Jazz's frame thoroughly. Sure enough, Jazz had a virus that was making his internal temperature spike drastically, and apparently issuing strange cravings.

* * *

><p>When Jazz onlined, he didn't move. He felt like he couldn't move. He just stayed there, optics fixed on the ceiling.<p>

"Jazz." said a soft voice.

Jazz managed to turn his helm to face the tactician, but still didn't say anything.

"Are you okay?" the voice finished.

Jazz slowly nodded his helm as if he wasn't sure it was the right answer. "I think so."

Prowl kept gazing at him, faceplate merely centimeters from his. He leaned in to brush his lips against Jazz's cheak plating, kissing it, and working his way over to the saboteur's lips.

"I'm just worried about you," he muffled, pulling away.

But Jazz shot up both servos around the back of his helm and pulled him in to a forceful kiss. He barely pulled his lips away before tilting his head and diving back in, flickering his glossa everywhere it could possibly reach inside Prowl's mouth.

"Mmmnn..." Prowl moaned with a smirk.

Jazz didn't say anything; he just feverishly kissed Prowl until he pulled himself away, looking at Jazz in concern.

"What?" asked Jazz, rather impatiently, noticing how Prowl was looking at him.

"I scanned your systems last night... you weren't acting, yourself... and I found a small virus."

Jazz's visor glowed a brighter blue, showing he was now more awake. "How did I get a virus?"

"I don't know. I was going to take you to Ratchet if - "

"NO!" the Porsche shrieked. "No way, I am _not_ going to med bay just for a virus. Knowing Ratch', he'll want me to stay for, Primus knows how long, doing rediculous tests, and it's a waste of time!"

Prowl looked down at his lover and smiled. "Alright, fine. I won't make you. But if you get any worse, I am. Is that understood?"

Jazz nodded and smiled back, but quickly frowned and tossed his helm back, letting out a quiet, long groan.

"Jazz? W-What's wrong?"

He didn't answer. Just made the groaning louder as he grit his denta.

"JAZZ?" he asked, noticing the bright blue optics were now turning almost purple-black.

He sat up and cupped both servos around Jazz's faceplate, yelling at the saboteur to respond. Purple "sweat" streamed from Jazz's faceplating, and he started to shiver. Hard.

He jumped off the berth and ran down the hall to the wash racks, ignoring strange looks passing mechs were giving him, grabbed a wash cloth, and ran back to Jazz's quarters.

He gently patted his faceplating with the damp cloth, soaking up the energon sweat and brushing the plating gently with his other servo for comfort. "Jazz..." he whispered. "Jazz, come on..."

Jazz started panting, still shivering, clenching either side of the berth with his servos as Prowl swiped the cloth over his forehelm.

Prowl was relieved when his tension lessened, and the Porsche onlined his optics to look at Prowl. He was still shivering and sweating, but not as bad as before. He reached up both servos weakly, grasping on to Prowl's hips and he tried to pull himself up to say something.

Prowl threw the cloth down on the floor, still brushing Jazz's faceplate, leaning in to hear his words better.

But Jazz couldn't make it. He fell back onto the berth, offlining his optics.

"Jazz?"

The only thing that he could hear was the faint humming of Jazz's cooling vents trying to cool him down.

"Jazz... answer me... " he started to sweat, hoping that it was just a stasis lock from the virus.

"JAZZ, _please_!" he shouted, slightly shaking the mech.

Still silence.


	2. Chapter 2: Love of Cryns

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** JazzxProwl, BeexBlaster, BeexTwins, (small TwinsxBluestreak, TracksxBlaster)

Sorry for making the chapters so confusing... I'm still working on my knowledge of this website. I think I got most of it figured out, so it should be smooth sailing from here. And also, sorry for not saying much about Ratchet and, whoever, but I'm working on it! Right now it's just slashy goodness, sticky stuff, etc. And the chance of Jazz infecting everyone on the Ark with his deadly illness, and Prowl infecting everyone on the Ark with the bacteria from the sliver. (continued mostly in next chapter or two)

Ehehehe! So evil I am xP

Hope ya like!

* * *

><p>"What do you think it is?"<p>

"... I have no idea..."

Ratchet had been studying this piece of material for over 5 cycles, and eventually Optimus called in Wheeljack to help him.

Wheeljack was standing over his shoulder, watching the medic squint into the lens of Perceptor. He pulled away, grabbing the sliver of metal with him, letting Perceptor transform back to robot mode.

"From the weight of the object, statistics should say it might the Earth's element of lead," the scientist piped up.

"No... I don't think so. Lead is much more dense than this. It might just be an artificial formation, or creation..." replied the medic.

Wheeljack walked over to the cabinet, retreiving a sterile tray for Ratchet to place the sliver on for further observation. He'd finally convinced the subborn medic to take a break, get some energon, and recharge.

The three mechs were about to leave the med bay when Prowl burst through the doors, panting.

"Ratchet! It's Jazz... He - I - "

"It's alright, Prowl, what happened?" he asked as he and the other two scientists ran after Prowl down to Jazz's quarters.

"I don't know... We, were... doing some things... and I scanned his systems and found a virus. He was determined he was fine and wasn't going to see you, but then he passed out cold," he replied as they finally reached the quarters.

All four ran in and surrounded Jazz. Perceptor told Ratchet he and Wheeljack would set up moniters, and both ran back to the med bay. Ratchet put one servo on the Porsche's chassis and the other on his forehelm, scanning him with his optics.

He pulled away his servos and looked at Prowl, almost cautiously. "Just what exactly were you two doing?" he asked rather hesitantly.

"Uhmmm... well, you know... -"

"Prowl! I need to know!"

"Well, 'facing, Ratch'. What else?" he replied, with a slight smirk of both laughter and embarrassment.

Ratchet let out a heavy sigh and smacked his helm with both servos. "Primus..." he muttered under his breath.

"What? What's wrong?" Prowl demanded.

"Help me get Jazz to med bay... I'll explain later."

* * *

><p>"Stop... nghh... guys, stop!"<p>

"But you're so fun to play with!"

"Uhhgg... w-what about Blu-uestreak...?"

"We love him too. But he's not here right now, and we want _you_."

Bumblebee shivered under the sudden touch of Sideswipe's digits dancing across the small of his back, but soon forgot about it as Sunstreaker turned his helm and locked lips with him.

"Mmmmm... oh, Bee..." he moaned as he pulled away to suck hard on a neck cable, making the minibot mewl.

"Maybe we should take back to our quarters, eh Sunny?"

The golden twin let out another soft moan and agreed, picking up the squirming spy and carrying him off to the twins' quarters.

Bumblebee sighed and dropped his tense over the toughliner, smirking at Tracks and Blaster as they walked past them and gave the three confused looks.

Sideswipe waved at them as he stepped into the quarters right after Sunstreaker and Bumblebee, shutting the door.

Sunny threw Bumblebee down on his berth, making a loud "oof!" escape him as he landed on his back. He looked up at Sunny as the twin leaned down and ferociously kissed the minibot senseless.

Sideswipe jumped on the berth behind Bee, groping his horns and making him mewl into Sunstreaker's mouth. Sunny had the yellow bot's arms pinned to his sides and his legs pinned to the edge of the berth with his own. He heard Sideswipe snap open his interfacing panel, which made him do the same.

Sideswipe grunted as his spike emerged from its housing, and Sunstreaker moved away to give him access. Bee cried out as Sunstreaker snapped open his panel, thrusting a finger inside him rather roughly. Sideswipe flipped over around Bee so that he had the minibot in between his legs, spike merely inches away from his mouth.

"Unnn..." he exclaimed. "Suck me, Bee... hard..."

Bumblebee opened his mouth slightly more to allow Sideswipe's thick spike in. He wrapped his glossa around the main plug and tip, getting saliva all over it, making the red twin moan.

Bumblebee, who's mouth was occupied with Sideswipe's spike, muffled out a loud mewl as Sunny slammed his spike all the way in up his tight port. He began thrusting, pulling and pushing the spy with him with every thrust.

Sideswipe gripped the base of his own spike, now so hard it was starting to actually hurt, and started jerking it. Sunstreaker couldn't resist thrusting a few digits up his twin's port; he was practically asking for it. So he let out a rather surprised yell as he felt two digits take him from behind, adding to his arousal.

He keened and mewled louder and louder, until Bee sucked on as much as he could so hard that it drew transfuid out of it, tipping him over the edge. Sides shouted out Bee's name as he overloaded hard, spurting out thick streams of transfluid into Bee's mouth over and over again. Some even spurted back out onto Bee's faceplate since his mouth could only hold so much.

Sunstreaker knew that Bumblebee was almost there as well with the incredibly tight clenching of his valve. Sideswipe moved so Bee could have more room to thrash; he new Sunny wasn't weak when it came to interfacing.

Bumblebee grunted and gripped the sides of the berth, flickering his gaze down on Sunstreaker thrusting his huge, wet spike hard into his valve. _Primus_ it felt good...

"Uhhgg... ngghh! S-Sunn-yy! Just... AH! take me! NOW!" he shrieked as Sunny pounded him uncontrollably.

Sunstreaker grunted louder, and with one final, hard thrust, Bee's valve started spasming like mad, tipping him over the edge in a hard overload.

Bumblebee cried out, overloading hard, thrusting his hips upwards into Sunstreaker's while still holding on to the sides of the berth. Sunny thrusted even faster while transfluid gushed out from the tip of his throbbing spike.

Eventually all three mechs settled down, cooling fans taking over. Bee managed to sit up and rest against the wall in between the twins, panting, letting his helm fall to rest on Sunny's shoulder, and drifted off into stasis.

* * *

><p>Jazz was shaken out of his stasis as Prowl and Ratchet set him down on the medical berth, hooking tubes up to his spark chamber and energon feed.<p>

The Porsche let out a grunt and a horrified look passed on his faceplate as he glanced up at Prowl.

"Thank Primus..." he mumbled to himself, thankful Jazz's passing-out wasn't permanent.

He leaned over and gripped Jazz's hand as Ratchet started hooking up a weird, blue, gooey-looking substance to the energon feed.

"W-What... are you..." Jazz started, but Prowl cut him off.

"You passed out cold, Jazz! I had no choice."

The saboteur started shivering violently again. "How is his internal temperature dropping that fast?" exclaimed Wheeljack. "This is rediculous..."

"I don't know! Get that stabilizer over here NOW!" Ratchet yelled back.

Jazz started panting, and all Prowl could do was hold his hand with one servo and stroke Jazz's forehelm with the other while glancing between the three mechs and him. "It's okay, Jazz, you're okay..." he whispered into Jazz's audio. He repeated the comforting words, noticing how they were actually calming him down. He still had a look of pain on his faceplate, something that was very rare to see, but his overall reaction had simmered down.

"He's going into stasis lock..." Ratchet yelled across the med bay, every moniter beeping and flashing hysterically. Wheeljack ran over and handed Ratchet his blade and pliers, making sure Jazz's attention wasn't on them. Perceptor ran behind them to manage the moniter.

Prowl wasn't 100% sure what the doctor was going to do, but he had an idea. No one wanted Jazz to see what was going to happen, so he gripped Jazz's clenching servo harder and kissed his helm, muttering the comforting words again.

"Perceptor, hook up that stabilizer; I need Jazz to enter stasis so I can - " but the medic caught himself before freaking Jazz out even more.

Without a word, Perceptor pressed a few green buttons and Jazz's grip on Prowl's servo weakened.

* * *

><p>Bumblebee's optics onlined. The room was dimly lit, and he could hear two sets of faint humming. He looked over the see the twins leaning against the wall, deep in recharge.<p>

The recent overload came rushing back to his memory, making him smirk. He jumped off the berth, walking towards the door, out into the hallway.

On his way to the rec room, he felt like he wanted to experience it again, only not with the twins; he wanted someone better. Someone who knew every thing about anything about interfacing. An expert. Someone big, with a big spike, a huge, stiff, throbbing, hot spike...

_*Oh, stop it. You're getting perverted.*_ he thought to himself.

But he couldn't help it. When he got to the rec room, he didn't even stop at the energon dispenser. He just walked over and sat next to Blaster who was talking to Tracks.

"Hey there, little Bee!"

"Hey Blaster... Tracks... "

"Somethin' on your mind?" asked the boombox.

"No..." he asked almost in question-form. "Well... um... kindaaa..."

Blaster and Tracks looked at each other, then back at Bumblebee. "Well, what is it?" asked the corvette with a smile.

Bumblebee looked up from his intertwined servos. "I dunno. I feel, kinda, dizzy... I guess. I was with the twins last night... did some things, and now my processor sorta hurts and I feel like I'm craving something. I just don't know what."

The two grins turned into even more cheesy ones, making the minibot look at them with a startled face. "What?"

"I know whatcha need, Bee." replied Blaster. Laughing, he continued. "You need a nice interface. You _want_ it. That's your problem."

Bumblebee glared at him. Blaster and Tracks were still giggling, then like that their smiled turned into wide-opticed, scared looks as they noticed Bumblebee's optics glowing a dark purple and glaring at them.

"I- I was just jokin', Bee... you know that, right?" asked Blaster, now starting to back away as the minibot's glare became fiercer.

Bumblebee stood up, and in a whispery, condescending tone, he replied, "You're one to talk."

And with that he jumped on top of the communications director, slamming his lips to Blaster's.

He frantically kissed him, digging digits into wires as deep as they could go, making the boombox groan in pleasure and embarrassment. Tracks just sat there, optics wide in disbelief and shock.

Bumblebee applied enough force to his thrust of his body to knock them both off the seat and onto the floor, the loud crash getting the attention of every mech in the room. Bee pinned him to the floor, barely letting up before somewhat-violently sucking Blaster's lips more.

"Mmmnn... N-Nooo... Bee! BEE, s-stop..." Blaster tried protesting, thrashing wildly at the fingers clawing at wires and lips sucking his own.

He made his way down to his interface panel, retracting it, and pumping three digits all at once inside the slick valve, earning a loud groan. Blaster started bucking, now embarrassed that he was being practically raped by the yellow minibot in front of quite a few mechs, one whom was still just sitting there, watching.

Bee retracted his own panel and started emerging his spike, and Blaster onlined his optics to gaze into now nearly-black optics. _*What the slag is going on? How... why are his optics like that?*_ he thought, faceplate heating drastically.

But all too soon, he felt cold servos grasp his arms, and the frantic lips pulled away from him. The fingers were removed, and although he was thankful he could come to his senses again, he was somewhat disappointed.

He looked up and saw Bumblebee squirming in Sunstreaker's arms, Sideswipe then reaching down a servo to help him up. Panting, he took the servo and was brought back on his pedes again, closing his panel. He tried to ignore the stares from whispering mechs in the silent room, glancing over at Tracks.

Then twins set down the minibot, Sideswipe guarding Blaster in a way. "What was that, Bee?" asked Sunstreaker. "And what's up with your optics?"

Bumblebee said nothing. He glared at Blaster, then at Sideswipe, then Sunstreaker. He turned and ran out the rec room, almost knocking down Bluestreak as he stepped inside.

The twins shared looks with each other, but their gaze soon flickered over on Bluestreak. The gunner was still looking behind him, watching Bee run down the hallway. "What's up with him?" he asked, gesturing, turning back to look at the twins, who were staring at him with smiles.

"...What?" he asked again.

Sunstreaker just grabbed his arm as Sideswipe grabbed his other arm, optics glowing a dark purple. Bluestreak was used to the being-dragged-out scenario, but the optic colors were unusual. "Uhhh, you guys okay?" he asked, forgetting completely about Bumblebee.

"Oh, yeah, Blue. Just dandy." replied Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe smirked as the two dragged the gunner out of the rec room and down the hallway to their quarters.

"We noticed you looked a bit concerned... we just wanna cheer you up," added the red twin.

"B- But... I, didn't get to report an important message from Prime!" he protested, but then was locked inside the twins' quarters.

Blaster could hear a yelp and sudden continuous hard thumping from down the hall. He turned and glared at Tracks, thankful the mechs in the room had returned to talking to each other and pretending nothing had ever happened.

"_Why_ didn't you do somethin'?"

Tracks kept his gaze locked with the boombox's, slightly chuckling. "I'm sorry, Blaster. I was just so shocked."

Blaster kept glaring at him, and sat down slowly with an annoyed huff.

"I'll make it up to you, though." the blue mech whispered.

Blaster's glare lessened and became more soft, and smiled as he moved closer to his lover. Tracks put his arm around his shoulders, kissing his helm, still chuckling. "I knew you couldn't stay mad at me."


	3. Chapter 3: Too Much to Stand

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** BlasterxTracks, HoundxMirage, WheeljackxRatchet, WheeljackxSunstreaker

This is, finally, the first pairing with Ratchet so far, except for that tidbit with him and Ironhide... so, enjoy!

* * *

><p>[May 4th - 5:55 AM]<p>

As he onlined, it took him a minute to figure out where he was.

Then he remembered what happened last night... Talking, then Bee came over, _kissed_ him, feverishly, groped him, "raped" him... he remembered the twins came and picked him up, then he ran out the door.

Right. Bluestreak came, and the twins left with him.

That left him with, Tracks. Right. The blue and white mech, who's engine was supposedly humming in that quiet tone of recharge right to his left. He remembered everything now.

The corvette had made him drink some high grade to loosen up; he said it wasn't good for Blaster to be uptight about something, especially when he was so mellow 24/7. The high grade went a little farther than Tracks excepted though, and before either of them knew it, both mechs were drunk and fragging the scrap out of each other for cycles.

Just the thought of all that high grade made his processor hurt. Come to think of it, his valve started burning, too. He realized his panel was still open, dried lubricant seeped out of his port, and both were laying in a puddle of their mixed transfluid.

The boombox smirked; he could remember everything about last night. _Everything_.

Tracks onlined with a gasp, making Blaster turn and look at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." replied Tracks. "My, um, valve just hurts..." he said, gritting his denta as he sat up at Blaster's level.

Both were quiet and looked down at the transfluid all over the berth and the floor, some even managed to get on the wall. It was probably from when Tracks hooked the cuffs around Blaster's wrists way up on a hook the wall, making the mech practically stand on the berth as Tracks stood as well, pumping hard into the valve, and pulling out when he hit overload, transfluid spurts landing everywhere on Blaster's hips and exterior interfacing equipment, as well as the wall behind him. Remembering this, both mechs let out drunk giggles, followed by several hiccups.

Tracks soon groaned, placing a servo on his helm where it hurt the most.

Blaster slowly got up, vision staticy as his processor focused from the new movements. "What time is it?" he asked, words still a bit slurred.

"0600. Why?"

"Gotta shift in half a cycle. Monitering... can't be late."

"Ah..." the corvette muttered, standing up to face his lover. "So do I. But I got a whole cycle to kill. What on Cybertron am I going to do, Blaster?"

Blaster chuckled, wrapping his arms around Tracks' waist as Tracks did the same. "Might as well use up the rest of the energy still in me... don't want Prime to think I'm slackin'."

Tracks laughed, nuzzling his faceplate into the red mech's neck. "Sounds good to me..." he concured, bringing them both down on the berth and pinning Blaster down. Again.

* * *

><p>"Scalpel."<p>

"Scalpel."

...

"Pliers."

"Pliers."

...

"Fabric."

"Fabric"

"Wheeljack."

"Wh - yeah?"

"You don't need to repeat everything I say. If I ask for it, just hand it over." the medic explained, gently wiping the erupted energon lines he'd broken while peeling back thin sheet by thin sheet of metal, preparing to fix the interior half of Jazz's processor.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Saw it in a movie."

He eventually peeled back the last thinnest sheet of metal protecting the blue, squishy irregularly-shaped sphere, the right half glowing with normal blue energon lines, the left glowing dimly with energon lines shriveled up here and there. Just as Ratchet suspected.

He sighed heavily, putting down the fabric and motioning Wheeljack over so the three mechs could talk in private. Apparently they didn't think Prowl needed to hear whatever was happening. He figured he didn't _want_ to know. Instead he just looked down at the recharging Jazz, who's servo was still firmly grasped in his. He swiped his other servo over his helm, stroking his thumb over a part where he knew Jazz loved, trying to ignore the sight of the glowing blue mass shining from the top of his helm.

"Prowl," said a voice from over in the corner.

He looked up at all three. "Yes?"

Ratchet walked over to the tactician. "I'm afraid that you can't be in here while we're operating on Jazz. I'm really sorry... I just, can't risk anything or... well... - "

"It's fine, Ratchet. I knew I wouldn't be able to spend the whole time in here anyway."

Ratchet gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry." he whispered again. "You're free to wait in the, hallway, or I'll talk to Prime to release you from duty for the rest of the joor..."

"No, it's fine, I'll return to my post." he replied, letting go of Jazz's servo and slowly walking towards the doors.

Ratchet murmured a soft "Alright" with a small smile, seeing him to the door.

Before Prowl stepped out, he turned back to Ratchet, optics glowing a dark purple, just like Jazz's were before Ratchet came and discovered what was wrong with him. The color startled Ratchet, making him flinch and almost yell for Wheeljack to help stabilize him, when his gaze flickered up to the medic's optics and his own flashed back to their normal blue color.

The action startled the medic almost just as bad as when they were that purple-black, but quickly came to his senses when Prowl started talking to him.

"You'll, um... you'll let me know, if something, bad, happens... right?"

Ratchet was still gazing into the optics, searching for signs of the illness Jazz had. He knew that sooner or later Prowl would be affected, but hoped that it would last until Jazz was okay. He remembered Prowl's question, answering quickly. "Yes, Prowl. We will let you know. But nothing will happen. It's a simple procedure; I've seen it in the war and performed it several times. He'll be fine." he said, still smiling to assure Prowl.

Prowl just smiled, turning around and walking out down the hallway. Ratchet watched him, processor still set on the crazy optics ordeal. How was that even possible? He turned back to the med bay, closing the doors. He remembered this illness in the war. In fact, it was the _only_ time he'd _ever_ dealt with this crazy illness. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Which made him wonder, how on Cybertron was _Jazz_ of all mechs able to get his servos on it?

* * *

><p>"NO, 'Raj! To your OTHER left!" screamed Hound, laughing.<p>

Mirage ducked at the flying "bullet" aimed at him from the cardboard Decepticon. He twirled around, pretty dramatically, making a dramatically matching sound, avoiding another hit from a "Decepticon" on the opposite side. He was thankful these were the last two; he'd been ducking and back-flipping and shouting all morning, just to survive cardboard. He wondered how he would last against the real 'Cons.

When he shot down the last "'Con", he stumbled back to base where Hound was still laughing at him. "Oh, would you stop... You've had much more experience than I have!"

He tried to stifle his laughs, but they just came out as strange snorts. "I... I-I'm sorry, 'Raj. But it was pretty funny, watching you duck and practically fly through the field with flips, and, Primus knows what you where doing."

Mirage just made a scrunched-up face at the jeep, grabbing his gun and walking back to headquarters.

"Hey, Mirage, wait." Hound said, catching up to the ligier, stopping him with a servo on his shoulder.

Mirage turned around and looked at Hound. "Why? So you can laugh at me some more?"

Hound scoffed. "Come on, 'Raj. You know I was just playing." Mirage tried to squirm out of Hound's grip, but the jeep just grabbed him with both servos. He leaned in closer, whispering, "You know I still love you."

He leaned in and planted his wet lips to the noble's, bringing down his servos and wrapping them around his waist, pulling him closer.

Mirage didn't want Hound to seduce him; he wanted to stay mad at him. But the kiss was making that impossible, so he gave in and kissed Hound back. The green mech smirked, pulling away and tilting his head, leaning back in to get in a deeper angle. Mirage let his lips spread ever so slightly, allowing Hound's glossa to tangle with his.

Mirage started to smile a bit, but soon both pulled away, breaking the passionate kiss, as Hound's radar system started beeping. Red Alert was calling them both to report to Prime, for some reason he couldn't say.

The two mechs pulled away from each other completely, walking side by side back to the Ark.

* * *

><p>Perceptor glanced at the moniter, beeps faint and normal. He looked back at Ratchet, kneeling on one knee while working a pair of pliers and his servo he'd transformed into his blade inside the top of Jazz's helm. Perceptor stood by, watching every move, ready whenever the medic needed him.<p>

He was almost done, too; All he needed to do was replace a main neurochip in the center of the left half, and he would be good as knew. Well, as good as he was before. Jazz would still have basic symptoms, like occasional shivers and pain, but the disease would be gone, and the symptoms would wear off.

The illness itself was rare, though. It took him a while to remember exactly everything he needed to do in order to restore his processor fully without damaging the saboteur. What scared him the most was that is _wasn't_ the same one he'd seen multiple times in the war; he'd only seen this once in his entire life stream, and that was when he was still in training.

Ratchet let out a confused noise of some sort, one to make Perceptor look at him.

"What is it?" asked the microscope.

"... This, chip..."

"...What about the chip?"

"It's..." he started, but was so surprised he couldn't even speak. After a while he continued.

"It... looks like, Jazz has... Cryn's..." he finished, slowly retracting his blade and backing away from the unconscious saboteur.

Perceptor stood with his mouth agape, studdering. "C-Cryn's...? Wh - How is that possible? That hasn't been around since before the Golden Age!"

"I know, Perceptor..." he said, wiping off the pliers and transforming the blade back to his servo. "Which makes me wonder if I'm just seeing things or... if, he actually, got it... somehow..."

The two scientists stood silent, thinking how on Cybertron Jazz was able to catch Cryn's. Its root word itself meant "love" in Cybertronian, but they renamed the disease under Earth terms. It was highly contagious by physical contact, especially if such contact was made _inside_ something, such as a spike and port. Side effects were servere pain in the processor and spark chamber, neurochip disfunction, as well as sweating and the occasional stasis lock, which Jazz seemed to have all of.

It was curable, and not really that life-threatening, just dangerous and was spread easily since anyone who had it would want to show that "love" the disease gave them, thus fragging, or other things, anyone they wanted.

Ratchet thought about how Jazz would have caught the disease. He then remembered Prowl saying they were interfacing, but at the time Cryn's was the last thing he thought it would be; he thought it was maybe the disease he _did_ see many times in the war: Cybonic Plague. He knew his was also highly contagious, just by touch, which scared him thinking not only would Jazz die of it, but Prowl had been infected too.

"At least it's not Cybonic Plague..." the medic muttered.

"W - You thought it was Cybonic Plague?"

"To be honest, I didn't know what it was. Yes, my first thought was Cybonic Plague, mostly because Cryn's symptoms and Cybonic's symptoms are nearly alike. Cybonic is obviously life-threatening, though, and Cryn's necessarily isn't."

"Hm. Well, how do we know Jazz is the only who has it?"

"We don't. I'm 99% sure Prowl has it, and who knows who else. What I want to know is how they got it in the first place."

The med bay doors swooshed open, and Wheeljack stepped inside. The medic and microscope looked up, about to tell him they'd finally figured out what was wrong with Jazz, but just gasped in shock as they saw the scientist's optics glowing that purple-black, and was walking towards them, glaring.

The medic backed away, but was stopped by a cabinet behind him. Perceptor ran into a moniter, but squeezed around it, trying to hide from the infected Lancia.

Wheeljack walked up to Ratchet, staring him right in the optics. The medic was actually scared... he had no idea what the scientist would do to him. Wheeljack grabbed him arms, but Ratchet started flailing and managed to escape, running to the other side of the med bay.

"No! Wheeljack! *duck* 'Jack, stop!" he yelled as Wheeljack threw a wrench in his direction. He ran up to the medic, grabbing his arms again, but harder so he couldn't escape. With the 3-astrosecond glimpse he got of Wheeljack's helm, he could see the thin metal covering the infected processor, covered in black, shriveled-up energon lines, the dim blue glow pumping hard against the metal.

The Lancia leaned in to claim Ratchet's lips, making the medic whine in protest. Squirming, he pulled away, but still couldn't escape his hold. Wheeljack got frustrated and kissed him harder, thumping his head against the wall so he couldn't move.

Perceptor made a noise of terror, and ran out the med bay doors. Wheeljack caught the movement in the corner of his optics, and let go of Ratchet and ran out to chase Perceptor.

Ratchet panted, slumping to the ground. He could feel his arms again, and quickly scanned himself for Cryn's. He sighed in relief that he hadn't been infected, yet, and he stood up and ran out to chase the infected scientist.

* * *

><p>[<strong>Flashback:<strong> May 3rd, 10:47 PM]

Sunstreaker strode across the rec room to the energon dispenser. He felt really weak, and his walking was proving it.

"Hey, Sunny, you okay?" asked Blaster from a booth.

The toughliner turned around, vision blurry. "Ye-eahh... just, dizzy..."

He stumbled over to where the boombox was sitting with Tracks, casually sipping his energon.

"Why are ya dizzy?" he asked.

"I dunno. Guess I got too hard of an overload..." he slurred with a smirk.

Blaster and Tracks smiled, but Blaster was still nervous about the incident with Bee about a cycle ago. Tracks had made him stay in the rec room and relax, sipping high grade. It was starting to rub off on the boombox, so every once in a while he'd let out a hiccup and drunk-like giggle, making Tracks laugh at him.

Wheeljack walked in, talking to Sideswipe, and both made thier way over to the energon dispenser. Sideswipe noticed his twin over with Blaster and Tracks, but then saw Bluestreak at a booth a little farther away. "See ya later," he told Wheeljack, and ran over to the lover he and his twin shared.

Wheeljack saw that Blaster, Tracks, and Sunstreaker were the only mechs in the room, save for Bluestreak and Sideswipe, whom he thought would want to be alone, and Beachcomber and Warpath playing a card game in the corner. He made his way over to the three mechs at the booth, and sat down next to Sunstreaker.

"Hey, 'Jack," said Sunny, rubbing his offlined optics with a servo.

"Hello..." he mumbled.

Tracks pulled Blaster closer to him, whispering something in his audio and making him laugh. Blaster looked down at his high grade, giggling, swirling it with a digit as Tracks continued whispering and licking his audio receptor.

Sunstreaker and Wheeljack could tell both were a little off, but said nothing. Sunstreaker just kept rubbing his helm and Wheeljack sipped his energon.

"We gotta go," piped up the corvette. "Busy day tomorrow." He smiled at Blaster, who got up from the booth, followed by Tracks who took his servo and led him out of the rec room.

Wheeljack smirked to himself, and moved to sit across from the golden twin.

He noticed Sideswipe leaving too, leading Bluestreak out, giggling and stumbling.

"So..." he started.

Sunstreaker looked up. "So."

"So..."

"So how is Jazz doing?"

The Lancia looked at the lambo in surprise. Normally the twins didn't care much about anything except thier looks, lovers, or fighting Decepticons. "Good. He's good. Ratchet and Perceptor are working on him now... they made me take a break since I've been working the whole joor - "

Wheeljack stopped when Sunstreaker's optics flashed a dark purple, then back to their original blue.

Sunstreaker stood up, optics flashing back to the purple-black, and grabbed Wheeljack's arm and dragged him out of the rec room.

He struggled out of Sunstreaker's grip, but it was no use. "S-Sunstreaker... what are you, *grunt* doing?"

Sunstreaker just growled as he closed the door to his quarters and practically threw the scientist on the berth. Wheeljack looked up into the dark-purple optics, but was soon panting as he felt two big digits pound his valve.

He hadn't even heard his panel click open. He also was surprised when the golden twin kissed him, hard with wet lips. He grunted in protest, feeling his climax build up at the sudden pounding in his valve.

Sunstreaker retracted his digits, clicked open his own panel, and slammed his spike in all the way up Wheeljack's slick valve, making the scientist cry out and grip Sunstreaker's arms.

The toughliner began pounding, thrusting in and out hard, picking up the pace as he felt the tight valve clench around his thick spike.

"P-Primus..." he muttered, optics offlining as Sunstreaker lifted his legs and bent them to get in deeper. Both mechs were panting and grunting, feeling the overload coming.

With a few hard thrusts, Sunstreaker tipped Wheeljack over the edge, making him crash into overload, _hard_. He had him bucking wildly, whining and moaning, which made the twin topple over as well. He groaned out Wheeljack's name, one of the only words he'd said since the rec room, thrusting harder, feeling the transfluid spurt out of his spike deep inside the valve. Little did he know he was spreading the disease Bumblebee had given him earlier to the scientist.

* * *

><p>[<strong>Reality:<strong> May 4th - 7:25 AM]

Perceptor was panting, "sweat" dripping down his helm from running so fast. He didn't even think he _could_ run this fast.

Mechs everywhere were staring at him, but he ignored them. All he cared about was not getting raped by his friend.

Optimus even stopped to glance at Ratchet chasing Wheeljack chasing Perceptor, chuckling slightly to himself.

"No! Please, Wheeljack! Leave me alone!" he yelled as he turned a corner. He swore that if that corner wasn't there at that time, Wheeljack would have gotten him for sure. He was still merely a few feet away, but Ratchet was catching up too.

Before he knew it, he felt cold, metal servos wrap around his midrif and tackle him to the ground. They flailed around, in the middle of the hallway just outside the rec room, right in front of quite a few mechs, but Wheeljack eventually had Perceptor pinned to the ground.

"No!" yelled a voice right behind them. Ratchet jumped on Wheeljack, tackling him back on the ground, wrestling with the scientist until he had him pinned. Perceptor stumbled to his pedes, panting and gasping, Trailbreaker coming up behind him and placing a servo on his shoulder, making him jump.

"What happened?" he asked.

Perceptor was about to tell him everything, but Ratchet yelled instead. "Nothing! Nothing happened. He just injected himself with a synthetic fluid he's experimenting with... he'll be back to normal soon."

Everyone was staring at him, wondering what was really happening. They didn't ask questions, though; they knew better. Wheeljack grunted in protest, trying desperately to escape Ratchet's hold, dark optics glaring and denta scowling at him.

Ratchet looked down into his optics, feeling with his servos around his neck to find the wire that would send him into stasis.

Perceptor walked over to him, watching the infected scientist's squriming stop.


	4. Chapter 4: Unexpecting the Expected

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** No big pairings in this chapter, sorry... next one for sure. Just mainly suspense in this chapter.

Sorry if the story is a little confusing... I'll explain things gradually; The fact on why Perceptor and Ratchet are so scared is revealed, so pay attention! And Cryn's will be explained more in this chapter too, so don't worry. ;P

* * *

><p>Even though his optics started to online, Wheeljack's sore processor didn't online as conveniently. The first thing he noticed was that it was dark. Really dark. Like Decepticons-captured-him-and-poked-out-his-optics kind of dark.<p>

_*Shut up... you're just making you helm hurt more.*_

When he fully onlined, he noticed bar cells a few feet across from him. It was clear he was sitting on the ground, and not in a very comfortable position.

_*_Am_ I a captive of the Decepticons?*_ he wondered.

He sat up, or at least tried, since, as he noticed, he was in what a human would call "a straightjacket". His servos were wrapped around his whole midriff, crossing over each over, and tied behind his back with energon ropes that stretched across his whole frame. They looked quite painful, but the scientist was still numb from whatever had been injected into him.

He then had a sudden urge to straddle someone, to pleasure or be pleasured, to frag someone until they offlined, even _permanently_ if needed... what was wrong with him?

He squeezed his optics shut as much as the metal would let, but the feeling just raced through his frame more powerfully. He grunted, quietly, trying to make his processor quit thumping, pounding, aching... to stop the urge to rip off the ropes, pry open the bars, and frag the medic senseless.

But all he did was sit there... He opened his optics. The room glowed with almost nothing, as the light shining from his optics was merely a dark purple, almost black.

* * *

><p>[May 4th - 3:10 PM]<p>

"Do you want some energon?" asked the medic.

"Nah, I'm good..."

"Are you sure? You haven't digested a thing since you woke up."

"I'm fine, Ratch'. I just want to leave this place."

"Well I'm afraid that's not going to happen, Jazz." he replied with a slight smile, walking over to the moniter across the med bay. "I can't let you leave until I've run some more tests."

The saboteur sighed, almost dramatically to get the medic's attention. He'd just come out of stasis not even two cycles ago, and was now sitting up on the berth, leaning against the wall, several pumps hooked up from multiple outlets on his frame to multiple matching moniters.

After Ratchet returned from his adventure, he and Perceptor quickly finished up on Jazz. Leaving him exposed like they did, especially with no one in the med bay, would leave them both responsible for _several_ injuries, including fatal ones. The Porsche kept complaining of his processor killing him, and kept begging the medic nonstop to listen to his music. Ratchet eventually gave in, so Jazz was occupied for the last half a cycle listening to a mixture of Prowl's favorite classics and his favorite Cybertronian heavy metal. Ah, the irony.

Ratchet recently took it away to run more tests on the saboteur, making him complain again.

"Primus, Jazz! You're worse than a sparkling!" yelled the medic at Jazz's recent complaint about his processor hurting. "I don't even see how it's still hurting. I've given you just about the highest dose of reliever I can without putting you in danger."

He helped Jazz up off the berth, one servo around his back below his arm, the other holding the Porsche's servo. He walked the wabbling mech over to another berth, one with machines attached to about every inch of space one could be attached to. Jazz grunted as he sat down on the berth.

The medic lifted up one machine so it fit right over Jazz's helm to scan the internal programming. He ran the machine, similar to a CT scan, images and data of the mech's fried processor popping up all over the moniter's screen.

Jazz watched the moniter, wincing every so often from the energon lines and neurochips pounding against his helm. The machine eventually stopped, and Ratchet removed the machine.

"What's up with mah helm?" he asked.

"Hmmm... nothing much; you're showing signs of improvement... I may need to go back in for a few things if they don't straighten out on their own."

The saboteur let out a disgruntled sigh as the medic helped him up and over to his original berth for the fourth time that joor.

"Now if you're not going to fuel up, I want you to recharge."

Jazz immediately scoffed in protest. "_What?_ I've _been_ rechargin' all _joor_, Ratch'! I'm NOT recharging. At least lemme walk around or somethin'... I promise I won't fall over dead!"

Ratchet let out a small chuckle at the sudden outburst. "I'm afraid you can't promise something like that, Jazz. And that "recharging" was just a temporary _forced_ stasis lock to keep you stabilized. You need to enter _actual_ recharge and let your self-repair systems work."

Jazz started to whine again, but Ratchet cut him off. "And if you argue, I won't let you listen to any more music for the rest of the orn. I'll talk to Prowl _and_ Prime."

And with one final grunt, scoff, and glossa-sticking-out at the medic, Jazz slid down on the berth on his back, slipping into a not-so-peaceful recharge.

"Good night, Jazz..." whispered the medic, chuckling.

* * *

><p>"You wanted to see us, sir?" asked Hound, slowly stepping into Optimus' office, Mirage just a few steps behind him.<p>

Optimus looked up at the noble and scout. "Ah, yes, I have an important message to pass to you and a few others. They should be coming soon..."

Prowl stepped in the doorway literally an astrosecond after Prime finished talking. "Sorry I'm late, had to throw a mech in the brig."

"Which twin?" asked Mirage.

"Surprisingly, no twins today. It was Wheeljack."

This news caused all three mechs to look at him as if the tactician was threatening to shoot them. Even Trailbreaker stopped dead in the doorway as he was stepping into Prime's office.

"Wheeljack?" Hound eventually broke the awkward silence. "What on _Cybertron_ did _he_ do?"

"I thought he just injected himself with some, synthetic substance. Why'd ya throw him in the brig?" added Trailbreaker.

Prowl turned to him, finishing without giving too much away, with the help of lying. "He did. I had to tie him up while Ratchet stabilized him, then put him in the brig for a while so he'd maybe calm down and be out of harm's way until Ratchet finds a cure."

The four mechs symphonized with noises of understanding, Prowl now satisfied they'd move on to the meeting.

Bluestreak and the twins walked into the office, not saying a word. Sideswipe closed the door behind him, and Optimus finally started the meeting.

"Ratchet has informed me of some rather, disapproving, news. Have any of you heard of the dreaded Cryn's disease?"

Mirage and Prowl piped up a "Yes", Trailbreaker an "I've heard of it..." and Hound a solid "Nope."

Sunstreaker and Sidseswipe looked at each other, then glanced at Bluestreak standing between them, though Optimus continued.

"For those of you who are not familiar with the disease, it deals with the neurochip running the pleasure circuts. It's a metal dust, like human bacteria, that is attracted to that specific neurochip. It eats away at it, causing the chip, as well as energon lines and chips surrounding it, to shrivel up and become 'dead'. It eventually affects the whole processor, making it dim and swell up, most of the time thumping against the helm and causing severe pain, along with mass sweat production and stasis locks."

"Just like Jazz..." Prowl murmured, not realizing he'd spoken out loud, and causing every mech to look at him.

"...Nothing, Prime. Continue."

"...Well, that's pretty much it, I - "

"My experiences have shown the pleasures being overwhelmed to a point where the victim will actually attack another mech, yes?" asked Mirage.

"That's correct. 95% of the time the mech with the disease will want to release his desires for pleasure on another mech, even if it means force."

Trailbreaker's attention piped up, and you could almost see the light bulb above his helm. "Hey, wasn't Wheeljack _forcing_ Perceptor to the ground?"

"It was just the sythetic, Trailbreaker," replied Prowl.

But the mech wasn't too convinced; he knew something was up, but he shut his mouth.

"Well, I also heard they'll more than likely attack a medic, or someone like a medic. Why is that?" asked Mirage again.

"The neurochips surrounding the infected chip are all relating to medical experiences; most are seperate memories which deal with medics or the assisting scientists," answered Optimus.

"So we need to keep guard of Ratchet and Perceptor," added Prowl.

"Yes." the leader agreed. "But that's not always the case... The seperate memories may just be very recent ones as well, like missions or training with other mechs."

Everyone nodded in agreement, urging Optimus to continue.

"Now. Symptoms to watch out for would be straining, especially in the neck cables and top of the helm, umm..." he started, whisking over the datapad with a digit. "...Optics. Right. Optics are a big one; you need to watch out for dark-glowing optics, like a dark purple-blackish color. Rat - "

But the leader stopped cold, finally noticing how neither Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, nor Bluestreak had said a word since they entered the office. His haitus made all the mechs give him confused looks, then slowly turn to face what Optimus was staring at. Several gasps left their mouths.

All three lovers stood, facing the crowd with ice-cold glares, arms crossed, optics glowing a harsh purple-black. Their helms were thumping quietly against their helms, revealing dimly-lit blue masses against thin sheets of metal.

The room suddenly was filled with silence.

* * *

><p>"Ratchet, I have found the data you requested."<p>

"Thank you, Perceptor," he replied, taking the datapad and walking over to the main moniter.

He didn't have much time to read it over though, as multiple shouts were heard coming down the hallway.

He heard a faint, "Sunny, STOP!", and all he thought was _Great... what in Primus' name did those idiots do now?_

He continued scanning over the datapad, trying to ignore the shouts outside. That is, until he heard the thumping against the closed med bay doors.

Perceptor looked up, a horrific look on his faceplate. "What is that?" he asked the medic.

Ratchet dropped the datapad, servos trembling, looking over at Perceptor.

"Hide," he whispered.

Perceptor's look's intensity increased even more, following the medic over to the supply closet.

Ratchet remembered now... he remembered the optic colors Wheeljack had. He remembered he could have sworn he saw Sunstreaker's optics flash the same dark color when he grabbed a cube of energon earlier, but thought Jazz's ordeal was just making him paranoid. He remembered the shouts of "Sunny! STOP!" just moments ago. He also remembered he was the only medic, and Perceptor the only functional scientist. It had never taken him so long to put two and two together.

He held the closet door open for Perceptor, then quickly and quietly stepped in after him, closing the door, leaving a crack to peer out of. He saw the med bay doors denting from being beaten on the outside, and eventually a clasp broke and clattered to the ground. Muffled shouts were heard louder, and the twins and Bluestreak, along with several others trying to hang onto them, stormed into the room.

He winced at Sunstreaker's bright-glowing dark purple optics, and Sideswipe's and Bluestreak's matching ones. He backed away from the creak, squeezing in between two narrow metal shelves containing jars of whatever. He didn't care. All he cared about was not being raped. He now knew how Perceptor had felt, even though the medic didn't have someone downright _chasing_ him through the Ark.

"UGHHHH...Where _are_ they!" yelled Sunstreaker.

"I know you're in here!" added his twin.

Perceptor grabbed onto Ratchet's upper arm with a trembling servo, slightly whimpering.

"Sshhh... It's okay... we'll be fine," the medic tried to comfort him as best as he could, but it wasn't even working for himself.

Sunny eventually freed himself from Prowl's grasp, and threw the tactician into the wall. Trailbreaker and Hound were tackling Sideswipe, Mirage pinning Bluestreak to the wall.

Optimus ran in, Cliffjumper behind him. The red minibot was determined to find out what was going on, so he followed his leader without hesitation into the med bay. They both picked up nearby wrenches and chucked them at the infected mechs' helms, but missed.

Optimus hurled one again at Sunstreaker, finally hitting him and making the toughliner pass out on the floor. Ratchet and Perceptor watched the golden twin go limp, then observed the others.

Cliffjumper jumped on top on Mirage, applying enough force to help the noble pin Bluestreak to the ground. Mirage finally tugged on the main cable in the gunner's neck, sending him into stasis. The only one left was Sideswipe, and with 5 against 1, he was surely outnumbered. And that was including the unconscious Prowler in the corner.

Hound and Trailbreaker eventually had him pinned to the countertop, thrashing, Mirage squirming in between them to reach the twin's neck cable. The red lambo finally went limp, and slumped to the ground. All the mechs were panting, staring at the three unconscious, _mental_ mechs lying in the floor.

Optimus and Hound walked over to Prowl, who slowly onlined with a groan. The two lifted him up and placed him on a nearby berth for Ratchet later. When he came back.

"Hey, were is the doc, anyway?" asked Trailbreaker to anyone who was listening.

"Uhmmm... - "

But all six turned to the creaking metal over in the far corner of the med bay, watching curiously as the supply closet door pried itself open.

A little red head poked out of the crease, staring at the three stasis-locked mechs on the ground. He slowly stepped out, not taking his optics off the unconscious.

Mirage walked over to see if he was alright, and jumped when he saw Ratchet creeping his way out of the closet, he too not looking away from the stasis-locked bots.

Cliffjumper ran over to him. "Are you guys okay?"

"Um... yes, I believe so..." replied the medic.

"Nervous..." added the microscope.

Optimus let out a laugh. "Well, you two are safe now, as you can see... I can put them in seperate brigs for now until you find a cure."

"O-Okay, Optimus..." Ratchet said, looking up at their leader slowly. "Sounds good."

He walked over to Prowl, who had slipped into recharge, then over to a seperate room where he had Jazz stored. He was thankful the mech was still recharging after all that commotion.

Optimus, Hound, Trailbreaker, and Mirage all helped drag the twins and gunner out of the med bay, Cliffjumper closing the doors behind him.

Ratchet and Perceptor watched them leave, then he bent down to pick up the pieces of the broken datapad.

Perceptor squated down to help Ratchet pick up the broken datapad. "Looks like I'll have to find new data..."

Ratchet let out a chuckle. "That's alright, Perceptor. You've had enough of a rediculous joor."


	5. Chapter 5: Assigned Release

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** ProwlxJazz, ProwlxIronhide, RatchetxIronhidexBee, HoundxMirage (small BeachcomberxWarpath)

FINALLY, the first REAL pairing of Ratchet and Ironhide...(but not till the end... and Bee's included :P) They're one of my favorite pairs (aside from PxJ and HxM) so I'll make it sticky... xD sorry it took so long. . And the explanation to how the disease came into the Ark will be revealed in the next chapter or two, along with the whole sliver-energon-goo ordeal. Thanks for the reviews, guys! Makes me feel better. (:

* * *

><p>[May 4th - 9:06 PM]<p>

C'm'on... eeeasy does it..." murmured the medic, reaching behind Prowl's torso and grabbing the side to help him sit up.

Prowl let out a moan as he was positioned upright, but soon relaxed.

"Alright, I gave you some pain reliever that will last for a good cycle; it's not much, but it'll get you through the joor and you can resume to your original post in the meantime. If you like."

"Yes, thank you, Ratchet... How is Jazz?"

The CMO looked over at the seperate room, pretty sure he was still recharging. Prowl had only been in stasis lock long enough for Ratchet to fix his dented arm and helm from being thrown into the wall, and rewire severed wires. While he had the chance, he scanned him for Cryn's, just to be sure. But he found nothing. _*How is that even possible?*_ he would wonder, aghast. _*He _has_ to have it... he couldn't sleep with Jazz and _not_ get it!*_

"Well, his systems are improving, but he still seems to be suffering from the symptoms. I believe they will wear off though, over time, just like any other virus."

Prowl didn't look away from the medic as he spoke. "... Can I see him?"

"Uhmm..." he had to think, would the saboteur still be contagious? Nah, his processor's fixed... and they'd have to touch each other for it to spread in the first place. "Sure. Why not."

He helped Prowl stand up, but the tactician managed to walk on his own. He was still a bit wobbly after having his processor dented.

They walked into the seperate room to find Jazz wasn't asleep like the medic thought he had been. He was just laying there, staring at the ceiling. Prowl could see he was slightly shivering.

"Hey, Jazz..." said Prowl, almost in a whisper. "How are you doing?"

"Nhgg... gooood... I guess..." he replied, tone broken up by the shivering.

Prowl walked over and stroked the top of Jazz's helm lightly, not putting pressure on the surface. Ratchet started to protest, but quickly saw how much the saboteur was relaxing at Prowl's touch. Jazz needed this; They both needed it. He saw a small smile flash across Prowl's faceplate, and realized how much they needed each other.

After a few moments of silence and stroking the Porshce's helm, Ratchet announced he should let him work on Jazz. Prowl agreed, whispering bye to Jazz with a soft kiss on his helm, and left the med bay.

* * *

><p>"Hey! Prowl! How are ya? Are you okay?" piped up Trailbreaker as the tactician walked across the rec room to the energon dispenser.<p>

He sat down with him, Mirage, and Hound with a cube of energon. "Yes, yes, I'm fine... It's Jazz I'm worried about. He's still shivering and sweating, and looks like he's in a lot of pain."

"Aww... I'm sorry Prowl. He's a good mech, though. He'll pull through in no time." replied Hound, Mirage nodding and smiling.

"I hope so..." he mumbled back, sipping his energon. "But... *swallow* have any of you guys seen Ironhide? I haven't seen him around, and I have recon with him later."

Three helm shakes made him concerned. After exchanging goodbyes, he got up in search of Prime, or anyone else who maybe knew where the old warrior dissappeared.

"Last I saw him he was talking to Bee in the hall," replied Beachcomber.

"Well did you see where they went _after_ they were talking?"

"Mmmm... Oh! Yes," but the dune buggy's face dropped. "... Ironhide picked him up and pinned him to the wall, and then ran back to his own quarters with the little mech."

"_What?_ And you didn't _do_ anything?"

"Well, no, Prowl! I didn't really care... I was still jacked up on Warpath's high grade anyway! In fact, all I _do_ remember is his quarters... he had me pinned to the berth, grunting... I think I felt something rather large pounding my - "

"Okay, Beachcomber, that's... okay. I just need to know when this happened."

"Just last night I believe."

Prowl gave a disgruntled sigh, turning to leave. "Thank you, Beachcomber."

"No problem..." he replied, words a bit slurred.

Prowl ran out the rec room down to Ironhide's quarters. He pounded on the door, hoping he wouldn't hear any grunting, gasping, mewling, etc. "IRONHIDE!" he yelled, pounding harder. "Open up!"

The doors swooshed open just as Prowl was about to give another swing. "What?"

"Where have you been, Ironhide? We have recon in less than half a cycle!"

"I know."

"Sooo... what have you been doing?"

"Things." the red mech replied.

_*Okay. This is rather unusual.*_

"Things," Prowl repeated.

"That's right."

"What kind of _things_?"

Ironhide let out a deep, quiet chuckle, pulling Prowl into his quarters and locking the door. "Lemme show you..." And with that, he planted a deep kiss on the tactician's lips, pinning him to the nearby wall so he couldn't escape, optics glaring almost black.

* * *

><p>Prowl was panting, gasping desperately for Ironhide to stop thrusting into his valve and making it burn.<p>

He was so helpless against the warrior that all he could manage was raspy pleads.

"NgghhaAAH! 'H-'Hide... eeeeghhh... s-stop! Stop it!" he would scream, over and over again, but it was as if the red mech was deaf to his words.

Both were quickly reaching overload, and Prowl could tell it would be a hard one. "I... I- Ironhide... NooOOO!"

Ironhide just started grunting louder, spike fully pressurized and ready to burst with transfluid. Prowl knew he couldn't allow Ironhide to overload, and making him overload too would just make it worse. He released both servos from the side of the berth, from which he was hanging on to rather tightly, to grip Ironhide's shoulders and try to push him away. As good as the overload would feel, he knew, he would just get infected and help spread the stupid disease across the Ark even faster.

He tried lifting up his pedes and bending them to push the mech away, but the high climax was making him really weak. Ironhide just chuckled, pumping harder, watching the tactician squirm and mewl.

He started squeezing Ironhide's shoulders with his servos, but the servo which Ratchet had fixed earlier from the sliver's cut started to split at where the seam from the where medic's handiwork was and ooze out energon. The fresh energon seeped over the warrior's shoulder, falling into scarred battle wounds and seams with wires. Ironhide gritted his denta at the sudden pain, and eventually couldn't hold it in. He screamed as high as his vocalizers could, overloading _hard _into the tactician, receiving so much pain from the energon seeping into his frame and so much pleasure at the same time.

"NOOOOO!" screamed Prowl, finally overloading from the vicious thrusting. He could feel the hot transfluid bursting from that hot, wet spike, deep inside his valve, lubricating all over the spike in return.

Ironhide couldn't take it anymore. He pulled out of the cop car, stumbling backwards, clutching his shoulder and shutting his interfacing panel as he nearly ran into the wall. "Fraggin'... PRImus... uughhaaah...!" he yelled through gritted teeth, black optics squeezed shut.

Prowl closed his panel, stumbling off the berth and onto his trembling pedes. He gripped the side of the berth to keep himself standing. After his panting subsided, he stood up on his own and walked over to Ironhide since he hadn't moved.

"Ironhide?" he asked in between sharp breaths. "'Hide, answer me..."

The red mech fell to his knees, slumping to the floor with a hard crash without saying a word.

* * *

><p>[May 5th - 7:13 AM]<p>

"Hooooound..." whispered Mirage into his lover's audio.

"Mmmmm..." he whispered back, holding Mirage close to him while they laid in their shared berth.

"Mnn... pleasure me, Hound..."

"With pleasure," he replied, slightly laughing.

The noble gave a squeak of a giggle as Hound pushed him off his side and pinned him down on the berth, almost in slow motion. He leaned in and kissed Mirage's neck a couple times, working his way up his jawline and eventually found his lips.

They laid there, quiet, indulged in each other's presence, loving the feel of each other's wet lips, glossas intertwining together. Mirage pulled Hound down closer to him, tilting his helm and kissing him back more passionately.

Hound started grinding his panel against Mirage's, making the noble moan into his open mouth. He was about to click it open when his buzzer went off. Again.

"Ughh... Primus, Hound, I'm gonna chuck that thing out the window if you don't turn it off when we're doing this."

"Sorry, 'Raj..." the scout replied. "But it's... Ratchet...? Why is he calling me?"

Mirage sat up and looked over to the buzzer's screen. "I don't know. Maybe you ought to see what he needs. Maybe he's in trouble."

"Yeah..." he murmured. "I guess I'll go... But not before one last kiss..."

Hound smiled, leaning in as Mirage turned his helm away. "Ooohh... playing hard-to-get?"

Mirage giggled, replying, "I don't think you deserve it."

"C'm'oooon... one little kiss... pleeeease?"

"Mmmm... nope."

Hound puckered his lips, making playful little smooching noises at the noble. "You know you want it... Come on Mirage... you're keeping me from possibly saving Ratchet's tailpipe!"

"Ughh... fine." he gave in, turning as Hound planted a hot, deep kiss on the ligier's lips.

"Thank you..." he muttered after pulling away, resting his forehelm against his lover's. "I'll be back for you..."

"Hmm. I'm sure you will," he replied, smirking as he watched Hound run out his quarters and down the hallway.

* * *

><p>His optics onlined, although it still felt like they weren't. It was probably because his optics were still glowing that horrific purple-black across the darkened room.<p>

_*What the slag happened?*_

All he could remember was kissing him. Then feeling intense pleasure... laughing at whoever he was pounding.

He then instantly remembered the pain... the aggravating misery in his left shoulder. He slowly reached his servo up to touch it, then pulling it way, looking at some strange, gray-blue goo.

His optics brightened, though they didn't light up the room that much better. He stood up, stumbling over to the door. His optics seemed to darken with arousal, if it was even possible to glow any darker.

He made his way to the door, opening it, walking out, running down the hallway. _*Faster, you glitch!* _He _had_ to get to Ratchet... for multiple reasons.

* * *

><p>"Well, Jazz, I am officially signing you off for release. I'm sure you're more than pleased."<p>

Jazz looked away from the ceiling towards the CMO. "Really?" was all he could make out; he was still shivering pretty harshly.

"Really. Prime gave you clearance, and I suppose you don't _need_ to be in here anymore. Your symptoms will go away after a while on their own," Ratchet replied.

Jazz tried to sit up, managing only halfway, slumping his head against the wall. He was dancing for joy on the inside, Ratchet knew, but on the outside he looked like he wanted to purge his tanks.

Ratchet finished signing the datapad, then set it down on a nearby countertop to help Jazz up. "I do have orders, though," he started, lifted Jazz around the midriff and moving his pedes so they hung off the berth. Jazz groaned, but the medic continued. "All I want you to do is relax for a couple joors. Go get some energon, and _remain_ in your quarters recharging."

"Bu- "

"No buts! Recharging is what you need the most. Optimus ordered Prowl to take the joor off too to be with you. And _after_ you've recharged, you can wander about the Ark all orn in you want. I don't care. Just follow my orders, and you'll be good as new."

Jazz started to protest again, but just let out a "Hmphh". He didn't feel like arguing. Ratchet held him up as they both stumbled their way to the med bay doors.

"You're okay?"

"Yeah, thanks, Ratch'," he mumbled, walking on his own down the hallway to his quarters.

* * *

><p>Prowl stepped into the med bay, breathing rather sharply. He couldn't make it to Ratchet last night... Ironhide had drawn so much energon out of him that he barely made it to his own quarters to recharge... on the floor.<p>

"Ratchet..." he panted.

The medic turned to him, his neutral smile dropping to a frown. "Prowl? What is it?"

"I-It's Ironhide... he..."

But he weapon's specialist ran in before Prowl could finish, nearly knocking the tactician over. Ratchet jumped, startled at the red mech panting with black optics.

"'Hide, watch yourself..." he started, slowly walking backwards and feeling his way around so he didn't run into anything. "Y-You're seduced! This isn't - "

Ironhide ran past Prowl, impressively dodging his swing, and straddled the medic at the waist. "I need you, Ratchet..." replied a gruff tone.

Ratchet let out a desperate whimper as Ironhide lifted him up and set him down forcefully on top of the counter. "P... Please... sto-op..."

But the best he could do was feel around Ironhide's neck cables for the wire to send him into stasis as the warrior dug deep into wires between his thighs. He couldn't find it, though; he peered over his shoulder to look for Prowl, but the tactician was gone.

* * *

><p>Prowl ran through the Ark, optics hazed and sweat running down his faceplate. He finally got to Optimus' office, knocking so hard he about just broke it off its hinges.<p>

The office door swooshed open, Optimus standing and staring at Prowl. "Prowl? I thought I assigned you to be with Jazz for the joor?"

"You did sir, but this is very important."

"I'll have Mirage or one of the scouts look into it. Jazz needs you, now go..." he said, slightly pushing Prowl out of the doorway and into the hallway to leave.

"No! Optimus, you don't understand! Ratchet is in trouble! Ironhide has Cryn's and is attacking him as we speak."

Optimus looked down at his SIC, a look of horror in his normal optics. Bumblebee just so happened to be in the room debriefing the leader of his last misson, temporarily subsided from the disease. Optimus obviously didn't know he had it in the first place, though.

The minibot suddenly remembered: _Ironhide_. Ironhide was drunk two nights ago. Bee was seduced by the disease. Ratchet wasn't there. Perceptor wasn't there. He'd just gotten back from a recon mission with Ironhide a couple cycles earlier. The red warrior was the last thing he remembered before the disease took over his processor, and he convinced Ironhide to frag the scrap out of him. _Suck me, pump me, pound me,_ he would say, his dark optics glowing darker with each breath. Each breath he took now was eating away at him, and his optics started turning that dark purple that they had been while being pounded by Ironhide, as well as spreading the disease to him.

Bee jumped out of his chair, running over to Prowl and tackling him to the ground. Prowl shrieked as he hit the floor, and Optimus just stared wide-eyed at the two thrashing around in the hallway.

Bumblebee was glaring at him, scowling, _growling_, frantically searching his neck for wires to stasis-lock him. Prowl looked up into the spy's optics, realizing he'd been infected, too. By now he'd lost track of who infected who or who had the disease and who didn't. At the moment he didn't care.

Optimus bent down to stop the yellow mech from offlining Prowl, but failed. Just as he was about to pick him up, Bee found the right wire and jumped off, running down the hall towards the med bay as Prowl's spasming ceased. Optimus knelt down beside the unconscious tactician, then watched as Bee ran down the hall and turned a corner.

He stood up and walked into his office, summoning a few free troops to med bay.

* * *

><p>Ratchet was now ready to offline in fear.<p>

He had no idea what to expect if Ironhide started spiking him, overloading, spreading the disease. All he could do was grunt and yell for him to stop, guarding his own panel as best he could.

He heard a panel click open, but not his. He looked down from where Ironhide wrapped his servo around his helm and covered his mouth to see Ironhide's spike emerging slowly, hard and fully erected.

He let out a whimper, looking back up into Ironhide's optics. His pleads were muffled by Ironhide's servo, but he still tried to push the mech away with his own servos and pedes.

A sudden woosh of the med bay doors opening made them both look over. Bumblebee walked in, shutting and locking the doors behind him.

"Stay outta this, Bee!" Ironhide grunted at the minibot, but both were surprised when he leaped up on the counter and grabbed Ratchet's waist from behind.

"I want _every_ part of this, 'Hide," he replied, making Ironhide smirk.

Ratchet groaned, started to thrash against four servos groping him over his entire frame. Bee nipped at his neck cables, Ironhide sucking his lips, making the medic groan louder.

"Nnn... N- Nooo... *gasp* please! Just... nghh, stop!" he pleaded as Ironhide moved the servo covering his mouth to play with his interfacing panel.

He clicked it open, revealing a rather wet valve and stiff spike. He released the throbbing spike, letting it slowly emerge from its housing. He wrapped his servo around it after it was completely out, and started pumping it, making the medic cry out in desperation and grip Ironhide's shoulders.

Bumblebee grabbed his helm and forced it back, planting a hard upside-down kiss on the medic's lips to muffle to screams. Ratchet thrusted his whole frame against Ironhide, though it just seemed to get the warrior off more.

Vicious pounding at the doors made all three mechs' movements cease, watching the doors.

_*Thank Primus...* _

But he thought too soon. Ironhide picked him up and set him on the ground, wrapping both arms around Ratchet, pinning his arms to the side, and dragged him off to the medic's quarters attached to the med bay.

Ratchet whimpered as he tried to squirm out of Ironhide's grasp, scraping his pedes across the flooring to stop himself from being dragged away. Ironhide lifted a servo to cover Ratchet's mouth again as Bumblebee gripped Ratchet's arm with both servos to hold it in place.

The pounding on the door grew louder, and hinges, that had recently been replaced due to a similar incident, fell to the floor. Ironhide made his way inside Ratchet's quarters, dragging a grunting, whimpering, heated medic and aroused Bumblebee with him.

"Open up, Ratch'!" yelled Mirage from outside.

"Come on, Ratchet! Open the door!" chimed in Hound, who had been paged for a different reason earlier, but now's situation was more important.

The medic only wished he could respond.

Ironhide dragged him into a closet next to the wash racks in his quarters, and sat Ratchet down on his lap, still covering his mouth. Neither Ironhide nor Bee spoke; they just both held down the squirming medic as hard as they could.

Mirage, Hound, Optimus, and a few others whom he couldn't make out crashed through the med bay, probably searching _everywhere_. They eventually heard one mech, probably Mirage, come in to the medic's quarters.

Ratchet whimpered, Ironhide pressing more force to his servo covering the panting mouth.

The mech prowled around the room, searching the wash racks, behind an open closet, pretty much everywhere except the one closet he was being imprisoned in.

The mech yelled something back at the other mechs, then ran out to follow them. Ratchet figured they'd discovered something in the hallway, and ran out to check everywhere else. There was almost no chance they'd come back to the med bay.

Ratchet was left, hopeless, defenseless, a whimpering mess, thrashing in the two mech's surprisingly strong arms. He knew he was officially doomed.


	6. Chapter 6: The Sliver

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings: **RatchetxIronhidexBee, ProwlxJazz (smallish PerceptorxWheeljack)

Alrighty, these next two chapters together may or may not have the most mechsmut in it... we'll just have to wait and see. Don't say I didn't warn ya though; no like no read!  
><em>Aaaaand<em> so sorry for saying I'd explain how the disease entered the Ark in this/the next chapter... I promise I'll get to it. This sticky stuff just requires more typing than I thought... xD

I actually kinda like this chapter, though... it has a sweet scene with P&J that may be a bit cheesy, but romantic. And the ending in my favorite. So much drama. x)

And thanks again for the reviews/faves/alert requests! :DD

* * *

><p>Although he was still loopy, he wasn't dumb. He was a scientist; one of the smartest on the Ark.<p>

Wheeljack had worked his servos out of the first layer of energon ropes tied behind his back and was now working on the second layer.

He could feel his spike fully pressurized, thumping against the inside of his panel. He was so desperate for a good interface; Just the thought of thrusting his spike into the medic's tight, wet valve made his arousal shoot through his circuts.

Once he was free from the second layer, he started on the third. He was so close... just one more tug...

_*Finally... I'm free.*_

Once he was free from the energon roped behind him, he pulled his servos apart towards the wall to loosen the ones in front. Once they were loose, they fell to the floor, and he could finally move around. But he was still stuck in the brig cell.

_*No problem...*_ he thought. The energon ropes were still hot with friction, and rubbing them against the bars would soften the metal.

He stood up on his wobbly pedes and felt his way over to the bars. He wrapped a rope around the metal, rubbing it back and forth, watching the rope and bar glow purple.

He quickly started on the next bar, hoping the first one wouldn't cool off before he finished the second one. Once both were glowing rather brightly, he pried the metal bars apart, dropping the rope and stepping through them into the hallway.

* * *

><p>[May 5th - 9:45 AM]<p>

"Prowl!"

Prowl shifted his helm to each side. He kept hearing a very faint vocal calling his name, this he counted being the fifth time.

"Prowl! Can you hear me?" the voice called, louder.

Prowl cautiously onlined his optics, moaning.

"Thank Primus... I feared that you had offined permanently!"

The tactician looked up into bright blue optics, and could eventually make out a face.

"Perrrceeptor?" he asked, slowly and slurry.

"Yes, it's me, can you tell me what happened?"

Prowl tried to sit up; Perceptor wrapped his arms around the back and sides of his frame, lifting him and leaning him against the wall. "I... I don't know... I saw Ironhide attacking Ratchet, so I ran to tell Prime, and - "

_"What?_ Ironhide was attacking Ratchet? Is he okay now?"

"I don't know, Perceptor! As I was talking to Optimus, Bumblebee jumped on me and offlined me. My assumption is that both he and Ironhide are still attacking Ratchet, unless Prime and the others stopped them."

Perceptor let out a sigh. "I hope so."

The microscope helped Prowl up so they were both standing, then continued. "I am assigning you to take the rest of the joor off and spend it with Jazz. You both need each other, and the last thing _you_ need is to fight your own team, let alone Decepticons if they attack."

"But, Perceptor, I- "

"No 'but's, Prowl."

"You can't order me to do things anyway. As first lieutenant - "

"No, Prowl. It's under Optimus Prime's commands. _And_ as a scientist and medic's assistant, I know what's best for you."

Prowl opened his mouth to protest, but shut it. He just let out an angry scoff.

"Now, go," he continued, slightly shoving Prowl down the hall towards Jazz's quarters.

"Fine, fine, I'm going... but for Jazz. Not for me. Or you."

"Whatever makes you obey orders," the scientist replied, sighing.

As Prowl was walking down the hallway, Perceptor ran the other direction towards the med bay. _Fast_.

* * *

><p>Jazz looked over to the doors as they swooshed open and Prowl walked in.<p>

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier, Jazz. We ran into some issues."

"It's fine," replied the saboteur, vocals shaking from the shivering.

Prowl walked over to the berth, laying a servo on his chassis. "How do you feel?"

"My processor hurts... and, I feel really cold. I can't stop shivering... Is this normal?"

The tactician let out a small chuckle and laid down on the berth next to his lover. "Yes, Jazz, it's just basic virus symptoms. They'll go away on their own in a couple of joors."

Jazz nodded, facing the ceiling again. Prowl noticed the pain in his optics, and wrapped a servo around Jazz's chassis. He moved closer, door wings swaying slightly and positioning backwards, embracing the saboteur like a parent their newly-sparked sparkling.

He nuzzled his faceplate into Jazz's neck, nipping at it. "I love you..." he muttered, sighing heavily in satisfaction.

Jazz's pained faceplate loosened up, smiling. He sank down into Prowl's embrace, lifting a servo up to hold onto Prowl's.

"I love you too, Prowler."

Prowl smiled and pulled his faceplate out of Jazz's neck cables, his lips centimeters from Jazz's cheek plating. He started rubbing his servo up and down the side of the chassis, making the Porsche turn his helm and look at Prowl. He lifted his servo away from his chassis to stroke Jazz's cheek with his thumb, smiling at him, leaning in to kiss him on the lips.

When he pulled away, Jazz looked down, almost as if he was in a trance. "Jazz?" Prowl asked, slightly worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine, I've just been a little cold all joor."

"Yeah, I know..." he replied, bringing the servo back down to rub the chassis to create warmth. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that..." he whispered into Jazz's audios.

Jazz started to shiver again, harder. Prowl could feel his cold chassis trembling, so he shifted upwards to embrace the saboteur's frame at a more passionate angle. "Sshhh... you're okay..." he whispered into his lover's audios, stroking his frame. "You're okay, Jazz, sshhhh..."

He kept repeating the words into his audio receptors, knowing they had relaxed him earlier, and noted how they were working now, too. He kept sliding his servos over his frame in a comforting manner, nipping and kissing the corner of his forehelm to coax him into recharge.

Jazz was still shivering, but not as bad. His frame seemed to relax a bit at Prowl's touches, and soon turned his helm into the datsun's neck. Prowl kissed his helm a few more times, and Jazz eventually entered stasis, embraced tightly in Prowl's arms.

Prowl finally sent himself into recharge as well... Perceptor was right. He did need this.

* * *

><p>Panting, Perceptor turned a sharp corner, nearly knocking down Hound and himself.<p>

"Where's Ratchet?" he asked, practically yelling at the scout.

"I don't know! We can't find him anywhere! We all broke up to search the Ark better, but there's no sign at all of Ironhide or Ratchet. Or Bee for that matter."

Perceptor let out an angry huff, looking past Hound down the hallway. "Well you've searched the med bay, correct?"

"Yes, of course, that's the first place we checked," Hound replied.

"Well I'm going back there... chances are they were hiding well enough for you not to find them, or else snuck back in there."

Hound started waving his servos in a defensive manner. "No way, Perce. Too dangerous - "

"Ratchet may be in trouble! If I run into any myself I'll comm. you."

The jeep let out an exasperated sigh towards the microscope. "Alright... just stay cautious."

"I know, Hound. Thank you," replied the scientist, already running down the hall.

* * *

><p>Ratchet struggled with all his strength to free himself from Ironhide's arms pinning him down on the berth. He could barely see straight with Ironhide's vicious thrusting, his port burning with friction and lubricant.<p>

He let out muffled cries as the red mech went harder, thrusting faster and at a more deeper angle. Bumblebee held a servo over the medic's mouth to stifle the screams again, while his other servo played with Ratchet's open spark, stimulating the sensors.

The minibot practically forced it open; The main thing Ratchet feared was Ironhide would be so seduced that he would force a sparkmerge with him, getting him pregnant. But he was relieved, though still mortified, as Bee just tickled it and played with it, making the medic mewl.

Ironhide started panting and grunting; both were reaching their climax fast. Ratchet was in the middle of reaching his second overload, though this one was much less energetic.

...

Earlier, the two infected mechs dragged Ratchet out of the closet after the others had left, and threw him to the floor just between the door frame from his quarters to the main lobby. Ratchet tried go grasp the door frame and pull himself up, but Bumblebee jumped on his chassis, pedes on either side of the CMO, pinning down his arms.  
>He unlocked his interface panel and emerged his stiffened spike. He pried Ratchet's mouth open and lowered the tip of his spike inside, making the medic grunt in protest and turn his helm to the side. Bumblebee grabbed his helm with both servos and made him face him, sliding his spike into the wet, warm mouth.<p>

Bee started thrusting his spike slightly, making Ratchet look up at him with horrified optics. The medic knew the spy was seduced, and wasn't realizing what he was doing. He just worried that he himself would soon act the same way.

Bumblebee started to grunt quietly, thrusting harder as Ironhide slid a digit into Ratchet's valve and pumped. Even if Bee wasn't pinning Ratchet's arms down with his pedes, the medic couldn't so easily push the minibot off since he was so weak and in an awkward posistion with Ironhide's other servo lifting his backstrut so it arched off the ground.

After pumping the valve with two digits, Ironhide quickly replaced them with his throbbing spike, thrusting hard into the tight port.

The mewls and cries became louder from jerking off the base of his own spike, and Bumblebee soon was overloading into Ratchet's mouth, making him swallow every drop as Bee's hips jerked sharp snaps. The yellow mech then moved off, laying on the floor for a nanoklik before propping Ratchet up so Bee was sitting behind him while he held the red and white mech up, pedes thrown over Ironhide's shoulders, making the position even more awkward for the medic, but even more of a turn on for the two seduced mechs. The red warrior smirked, dark optics smiling at the medic at his mercy. At this thought, he leaned down to Ratchet's face, thrusts deeper and jerkier now at the new, deeper angle, and kissed the medic's lips.

Ratchet grabbed onto Ironhide's shoulders with his servos tightly, having no choice but to ride the thick spike, and was so desperate to make the pleasure, pain, and two mechs stop... so he started shouting.

"STOOOP!" he screamed, panting, rocking with Ironhide's rough movements. "_Pleeeease!_ Ironhide! Nnnnnngg!"

He started calling out for random mechs, even though he knew no one would hear, especially with the med bay being located at the very end of the Ark.

Energon tears started swelling up his optics at the frustration, fear, and pain of his burning valve overwhelming him. Bumblebee covered his mouth again, his other servo playing with more wires in his hip, watching Ironhide frag the scrap out of the screaming, panting medic writhing in his arms.

Now grunting with every thrust, Ironhide was quickly reaching his pleasure. His spike started throbbing inside the valve, anxious to fill Ratchet up with its transfluid. Ratchet let out heavy muffled grunts, flooding the warrior with arousal, thrusting harder and groaning.

As overload erupted through Ironhide, his spike literally bursting with thick spurts of transfluid, Ratchet screamed as loud as he could, though still muffled so they had a small chance of being heard. He toppled over the edge in a hard overload, riding the thick spike faster, writhing like the world was ending at the pleasurable sensation and the fear of being infected. It was too much for the medic; He eventually stilled under Bumblebee's force, looking up at Ironhide as his agape mouth closed and his spike quit thrusting.

Before he could offline, as he wish he could, Ironhide grabbed his arms and brought him up to a berth in the main medical lobby, out of cameras' views of course, throwing him down on his back.

...

That led him to now's position: writhing again under Ironhide's extreme pounding. Who knew he was this kinky?

Bumblebee laid behind him, still playing with his spark and covering his mouth. Though his arms were free, all he managed to do was grip the red warrior's arms and let him take him. He was already 90% sure he was infected, and figured he couldn't do much to make them stop anyway. He was too weak.

Just as Ironhide was about to overload, a hard knocking at the med bay doors disrupted the only sounds of clanging metal and hard grunting.

Ratchet was somewhat relieved, though he knew the two would probably just hide him again.

"Ratchet?" asked a loud, almost yelling voice too familiar to Ratchet.

He started to whimper loud enough to be heard through Bumblebee's servo, as well as the doors, but Ironhide placed his servo over Bumblebee's and leaned forward.

"Nuh uh uh..." he whispered, waving a digit from his over servo left to right. "If he comes in here, we'll just get him, too."

Ratchet looked over in Ironhide's optics with this own wide ones, shaking at the thought of having to lie to his friend in order to, at a level, save his life.

"Ratchet?" came the voice again, knocking harder. "Ratchet, please unlock the door, I need to know if - "

"It's okay, Perceptor," interrupted the medic. Ironhide and Bumblebee uncovered his mouth for him to tell the scientist to leave, in a way that wasn't at all suspicious. "I'm working on... a- a personal problem... I'll be out in a cycle or so."

Silence stood behind the med bay doors... Ratchet was so angry. A mech was literally 5 feet away from saving him, but Ironhide and Bumblebee forced him to convince Perceptor he was alright and to leave in order for them to leave him alone and just take Ratchet. The medic obeyed; He knew Perceptor was smart enough to figure out whatever was going on, and would hopefully be able to fix him first after he was infected so they could both fix the infected 'Bots.

"... Well, alright Ratchet, if you're sure..." he finally replied. "Comm. me if you need any assistance."

"T-Thank you, Perceptor..." Ratchet called back. _*You have no idea.*_

The three mechs heard pedesteps retreating down the hall, and got back to work. Ratchet let out a loud cry as Ironhide thrusted his spike further into the wet valve. Once he was thrusting continuously again, he had Ratchet gripping his upper arms in desperation, muttering nonsense at the vicious pounding overwhelming his CPU. Bumblebee moaned at the sound of the medic's lubricant making deep, wet suction noises every time Ironhide drew out and slammed back in, making Ratchet cry out each time as well.

With his optics flashing a bright white from the increased pounding and Bee fiddling with his spark casing, he couldn't see very straight. He just felt the warm, sticky goo seeping from the shoulder from which he was hanging on to.

He managed to focus his optics, gazing at the blue-gray goo emerging from creases in the left shoulder's plating. Ratchet was close to overload, so he didn't pay much mind to the mysterious substance, but deep down he was wondering what it was. He started gasping, valve clenching uncontrollably, _almost there..._

Ratchet screamed as he overloaded, _hard_, Ironhide groaning out his own overload. He had the medic thrusting violently in Bumblebee's arms, Ironhide himself thrusting uncontrollably into the tight, gushing valve. All of a sudden, the med bay doors flew open.

"RATCHET!" screamed Perceptor, running towards Ironhide. "Why did you not tell me the truth?" he yelled, dodging the warrior's swing and lunging for him.

Panting, he let out his answer. "I... I couldn't... risk... they would have just gotten you, too..."

Bumblebee jumped off the berth, letting Ratchet fall on his back, running and jumping on top of the scientist and weapon specialist wrestling each other on the floor.

Ratchet struggled with all his strength to stand up off the berth, closing his panel and running on trembling pedes to the med bay entrance to summon the Autobots over a regional comm. link.

"This is Ratchet..." he shouted over the intercom, still panting. "We have a situation in med - "

But that was all he got out before Wheeljack ran in and tackled him to the ground.

* * *

><p>"Blaster, repeat that comm.," shouted Red Alert to the boombox standing next to him.<p>

Blaster did as told, replaying the bit of comm. link sent over the intercom for the whole Ark to rehear.

"'This is Ratchet... We have a situation in med - '"

"Alright, Blaster, send that to Prime too."

"You got it, Red..." Blaster replied, sending the message to Optimus.

Hound and Mirage were just walking in the entrance of the Ark as they heard the message blaring across the speakers in the ceiling. They had just gotten off shift, but were already running towards Optimus Prime's office.

"Hound, Mirage, where are the others?" asked Optimus impatiently.

"They're all on their shifts, Prime. We're the only ones off shift for now."

Optimus let out another sigh. "Well, Ratchet needs you in med bay... I better go too."

The three mechs made their way towards the med bay, only to find out it was locked.

Again.

* * *

><p>Neither of the five mechs attacking each other could hear the constant pounding on the med bay doors. Optimus was seriously considering removing them with how lately they've been a nuisance to problems in the med bay.<p>

Wheeljack and Ratchet kept rolling on and off each other, trying to pin the other one down. Perceptor was straddled between Bumblebee and Ironhide, shouting as wires everywhere were being stimulated. He was still fighting them off, but was becoming weaker every passing nanoklik.

The microscope finally managed to throw himself on top of Ironhide, standing up before Bumblebee dived for him, missing and landing on top of Ironhide.

He quickly ran over to help Ratchet up, freeing him from Wheeljack and gripping his servo. He pulled the medic up, both standing and grabbing whatever was nearest to them. Perceptor found a drill on a nearby tray, and Ratchet grabbed a wrench from the collection hanging on the wall.

The three infected mechs stood up, facing the two scientists, but not moving yet. The knocking could now be heard on the outside of the doors, but was ignored. They glared at the two defensive mechs with black optics.

Ratchet and Perceptor just gulped, gripping their weapons tighter and more threateningly.

Ratchet immediately noticed the pain on Ironhide's faceplate. He then saw the mysterious goo leaking in copious amounts from his shoulder. He suddenly put two and two together; the goo was identical to the substance from the sliver he was studying from Prowl's servo. It was obviously causing him pain; As much as he didn't want to hurt the mech, he believed he had no choice.

His processor worked frantically to remember where he stashed it... He gave up on it for a while a few joors ago, but stored it somewhere for future research.

He only needed those two astroseconds to lose focus, and he saw out of the corner of his optic Bumblebee lunging for him.

Bee got him to the ground, Wheeljack running towards and catching Perceptor. The microscope managed to squirm out of his grasp and dodge Ironhide's lunge, throwing his drill at his helm.

Ratchet keened under Bumblebee's violent attacking, gasping as he hit he helm against the floor pretty hard. _*Where is it! I need that sliver!*_

"UGGHH... Perceptor!" he shouted. "Find the sliver!"

"The sliver..." he repeated to himself, twisting his frame so he was out of reach from Wheeljack. He ran towards the other side of the med bay, stopping to search, then running as one of the two tried to grab him. Without luck, He ran over the Ratchet and practically kicked Bumblebee off him and helped him up.

"I cannot find it!" he exclaimed, pulling Ratchet's servo with him as he ran to escape Wheeljack and Ironhide again.

Ratchet ducked Perceptor and himself behind a seperated cabinet as Ironhide chucked a wrench at them, probably the one Ratchet had held on to before Bee pummeled him. He just so happened to find the right cupboard, opening it and revealing the sliver in a glass jar.

He opened the lip and dumped the sliver in his servo, gripping it as he and Perceptor crouch-walked to the other side of the med bay. Neither of the three had seen them move, so Ratchet and Perceptor had an advantage of sneaking up behind them.

Ratchet wrapped his arm around Ironhide's neck, not quite strangling him enough to stasis-lock him, but strong enough to keep him still. He rubbed the sliver over his chassis and shoulder, making the warrior scream in pain and fall to his knees.

He threw the sliver over to Perceptor, who pounced on Bumblebee as said mech was just about to pounce the red and teal mech instead. Perceptor rubbed the sliver all over the yellow frame, forcing the spy to writhe and cry out in pain, and actually offlined.

Neither had noticed Wheeljack, though, and soon the seduced scientist had the sane scientist pinned again. The sliver rolled out of his servo and across the floor at the sudden contact.

Ratchet was about to run over to pick up the sliver and throw it at Wheeljack when Ironhide gripped his pede and sent him tumbling to the ground. Apparently he hadn't offlined the Ratchet thought he had...

The action made the sliver roll further away from the mechs, and Ratchet scrambled to get up and retreive it, but Ironhide stumbled up to grasp the medic's frame more thoroughly.

"Uuggg... Rat-tchet... hurry!" yelled Perceptor, squirming under Wheeljack as he unclicked the microscope's panel and his own.

"... Nnnngg... I am..." he panted, crawling on his servos and knees to get to the sliver. He shook his pede out of Ironhide's grasp, stand-crouching and running over to it. Ironhide scrambled up, running and jumping on the medic as he grasped the sliver just as Ironhide pounced him.

Both mechs were writhing as they tackled each other, bucking and grunting in protest to either pin the other down or escape the other's hold. Ratchet freed his servos and applied the sliver to the base of Ironhide's neck, merging blue-gray fluid to seep into the cables and wires. Ironhide screamed, black optics actually flashing white, and soon slumped onto the medic's chassis after offlining from the intense pain.

Ratchet threw the warrior off, stumbling back on his pedes towards Perceptor, who was now hanging onto Wheeljack's shoulders as they rocked back and forth, Wheeljack cleary thrusting his spike rather hard. Ratchet threw the sliver at Wheeljack's faceplate, making him scream and pull out of the gasping scientist. Wheeljack shut his panel, toppling onto the floor, grasping his faceplate desperately. His violent bucking ceased as he slipped into stasis, and silence filled the room.

Even the knocking at the doors stopped...

After a nanoklik or so of processing information, Ratchet walked over to his friend and helped him up.

"Are you alright?" he asked, panting hard.

"Yes... I believe I am," Perceptor replied in between sharp breaths of his own.

The red and teal mech closed his interface panel, swiping a servo over his forehelm to wipe the sweat away. Ratchet looked around the med bay at the three stasis-locked mechs laying on the floor, asking himself too many questions at once.

The med bay doors flew open, and serveral mechs stormed in. "What is Primus' name happened to you two?" shouted Hound at the two scientists standing there, silent, sweating, and panting.

Mirage walked over to the counter and picked up a cloth, handing it to the two mechs. "We had to call in Red to open the doors since you... couldn't hear us?"

"We heard you, Mirage," replied Ratchet, wiping his forehelm with the cloth and handing it to Perceptor. "We just couldn't let you in because we were trying to hold them off, and you guys did not need to be exposed to the disease."

"Well, have you been infected?" asked Optimus, worried.

"I don't know yet. I'm sure I am; Ironhide... well, nevermind. But I don't think Perceptor was affected enough, so he should be able to fix me if I am."

Red Alert was still with them, but was really just a tag-along to unlock the doors. "I need to resume my position, Prime."

"Yes, Red Alert. You're free to go. Thank you." he answered.

"So... what are you going to do with these three? And - I though Wheeljack was in the brig! How the - "

"There are many options on how Wheeljack could have escaped the cell, Hound," replied Perceptor. "But right now I think we should just resume our posts, and I should look Ratchet over."

"Yes, Perceptor, that sounds good."

The five exchanged goodbyes with each other, the three leaving as Perceptor and Ratchet stayed in the med bay. They helped each other lower the three unconscious mechs onto berths to be operated, now fully stasis-locked so they wouldn't online.


	7. Chapter 7: Perceptor's Perception

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings: **RatchetxSunstreaker, PerceptorxSideswipe, HoundxMirage, ProwlxJazz

* * *

><p>[May 6th - 6:35 AM]<p>

"Perceptor, hand me that scalpel."

Perceptor picked up the tool and placed it in Ratchet's shaking servo. "Are you sure you don't want me to do that, Ratchet?"

"I'm fine, Perce, just a little, shaken up."

After a nanoklik or so of awkward silence, the microscope spoke up again. "Ratchet, please. You're trembling. You could damage his cranial circuts."

Ratchet let out a deep sigh, slowly placing down the scalpel and sliding his chair away from Ironhide's revealed processor. His was by far the worst he's ever seen, thought the medic, and he hadn't even seen Sunstreaker's yet.

_*Speaking of Sunstreaker,*_ he thought, cautiously standing and stepping towards his friend, _*I wonder how they're doing.*_

"Come on, Ratchet. Please take a break before the disease starts to affect you..."

"Which is exactly why I _can't_ take a break. If I _am_ infected, that'll just leave you to fix all of them, as well as me. And - "

Perceptor put a servo on Ratchet's trembling shoulder. He could tell the CMO was starting to shiver, and his frame felt colder than usual. "I'll be fine, Ratchet," he said in a low tone. "I've been watching what you've been doing, and I can manage it. Trust me."

Ratchet looked at him in the optics. "Primus..." he let out in a husky breath. "I wish... that, the disease would just get me and be over with already."

"Oh, Ratchet, you don't think that. You know Cryn's takes a while to actually take over a mech. Go get some energon, and find out how the disease arrived on Earth in the first place. Alright?"

He would have asked about the sliver, but figured he didn't want to strain the medic's processor too much.

"Yeah, sure Perce..." he replied, trudging out the med bay doors.

* * *

><p>As Ratchet stepped through the rec room doorway, he got a sharp shock of pain in his processor. He shut his optics, stopping in his tracks and grabbing his helm.<p>

Mirage immediately got up and ran over to him, Smokescreen following from the other side of the room. Both grabbed either side of the medic's arms, helping him walk over to Mirage's booth which he was sharing with Hound.

Said mech returned shortly after Ratchet sat down, handing him a cube of energon. "Thanks," he muttered, looking up and smiling at the three worried faceplates.

"I'm fine, guys. Thank you."

"A- Are you sure? Ratch', you almost offlined right in the doorway!" exclaimed Smokescreen, rubbing Ratchet's arm soothingly.

"Yes, I'm fine. Perceptor made me take a break before the disease took me completely... these are just minor symptoms."

"Well, If you're sure... I gotta run. Got a shift soon."

"Alright, Smokie. Thanks," replied Hound.

The three remaining mechs sat there, silently, sipping their energon and listening to the birds chirpping outside the Ark windows.

Hound sat back and put his arm around his lover, pulling his close. "So, how do you think Cryn's managed to squirm its way onto the Ark, Ratch'?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know. I was hoping to acquire information from other mechs today," he answered as Mirage shifted in Hound's hold to relax.

"Hm..."

"Do either of _you_ have any intel, insight, anything?"

Hound shook his head slowly, though it was clear he was think about it hard. Mirage did the same, but eventually spoke, almost like he was afraid to.

"When Bumblebee and I went to Cybertron for our last mission, he _did_ seem to act a little... strange, afterwards..."

Ratchet and Hound looked at him. "How _strange_, 'Raj?" asked his lover.

"Well, he said his processor started to hurt a little. I just stayed outside the region to keep watch, so Bee was all alone, except for Jazz on the opposite side. When he came out, though, that's when he said it, and he looked a little worn out."

Ratchet sighed and placed a servo on his optics. "Did he, um, shiver, or anything? At all?"

Mirage had to think for a moment. "...Actually, yes, he did seem a little colder than usual, and I thought I saw him shivering but figured it was just the moonlight. He hardly said a word on the way back."

"Well, what about Jazz?"

"He didn't seem like himself either. I thought I just drained too much energy that joor."

"Slag it, Mirage!" exclaimed Ratchet, standing up, but then sitting back down. "Why didn't you tell us this when you got back?"

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal! Like I said, I thought my optics were just playing tricks on me."

Ratchet let out a deep sigh, picking up his energon cube after staring at it and taking a big swig like it was Sideswipe's high grade.

"Hey, wasn't Prowl with you guys, too?" asked Hound, breaking the silence.

"Yes, he was like me, though, keeping watch for Jazz while I did for Bee. He was on the oppsite side though, like Jazz, so again I was pretty much all alone."

"Did you see him with the sliver in his servo?"

"No, Ratchet. No sliver."

Ratchet looked off in the distance, his free servo stroking his own faceplate as he thought.

"However," Mirage continued. "That is just _my_ story. Maybe ask Prowl himself, or Jazz."

The medic let out a disgruntled sigh, and with a shaking servo he set his energon down. "Alright, thank you... Maybe I'll check with Prowl."

"Alright, Ratch'. Good luck..." piped up Hound just as Ratchet stood up with his cube and walked out the doors.

The two lovers sat there, sipping what was left of their energon slowly before their morning shift started. "So you're sure you didn't see _anything_ else?" asked Hound, stroking his servo up and down Mirage's upper arm comfortingly.

"I'm positive, Hound. Prowl'll know how he got the sliver, or at least retrace his steps to remember."

Hound looked at him, a slight smile forming on his faceplate. "Alright, 'Raj."

Mirage leaned into his caress, smiling back at the scout. Hound kissed his forehelm, then offlined his optics and rested his helm on top of Mirage's as they laid nestled into each other, huddled up in the corner of the booth.

After a few kliks, Hound onlined his optics and shifted so Mirage would sit up. "I need to go, or I'll be late."

"Okay, Hound," Mirage replied as Hound leaned in and kissed him on the lips. The jeep then scooted over to the other side, standing up. He reached out a servo, but Mirage waved it off.

"When's your shift start?"

"In half a cycle or so."

"Oh, well, alright," he said with a smile. "I'll see you off-shift."

"Okay... Bye, Hound."

Hound waved a servo as he turned to walk out the rec room doors, then started running towards the entrance.

* * *

><p>[May 6th - 9:44 AM]<p>

Jazz onlined his optics, but something didn't seem right.

And it wasn't just his usual symptoms.

"Prowl?" he asked.

But he was just asking the ceiling. He turned his helm to his side, but Prowl was gone.

Normally he would be cool about this; He normally wouldn't care. Prowl probably had recon. Prowl probably needed energon. Prowl probably had to meet with Prime or some other mech.

Why was he so worried? He didn't know. And didn't care. He just wanted his lover.

He stood up off the berth, but immediately sat down again, grabbing his helm.

"Ughh..." he groaned, offlining his optics and feeling the throbbing pain in his processor.

He stood up again, and walked slowly towards the doors. When he stepped into the hallway, there was Prowl, standing at the end of the corridor, pinning Perceptor to the wall and sucking his face.

* * *

><p>[<strong>Flashback:<strong> May 6th - 8:48 AM]

Perceptor had finished working on Ironhide and was now ready to start on Wheeljack, but found himself studying the sliver again, although Ratchet had told him to put it aside for now.

"... Interesting..." he mumbled to himself as he transformed back into his mech form from microscope form.

He looked around the empty med bay, optics scanning every inch for his scalpel. He didn't want to use Ratchet's because it might be infected, but he couldn't find his own. _*I suppose I need to go back to my quarters...*_ he thought to himself, optics still searching as he left the med bay.

As he was walking down the hallway, he ran into Prowl. "Prowl!" he called out, but the tactician seemed to not hear him.

"Prowl," he called again as he got closer. "Prowl, I need to ask - "

But he stopped in his tracks as he got the glimpse of dark purple flashing across Prowl's optics.

"Yes, Perceptor?" he asked, optics glowing back to their original blue.

"...Um..." he stuttered. "... I- It's nothing, P-Prowl. Never mind..."

He ignored the SIC's strange look and took off to his quarters. _*Hadn't Prowl been the one who was first infected by the sliver?*_ he asked himself, walking quickly to retrieve the scalpel and finish his work on the three unconscious mechs in med bay.

When he got to his lab, he still couldn't find the scalpel. _*I guess it is in med bay...*_

As he turned to leave, he nearly jumped out of his frame. There, two feet in front of him, was Ratchet, swaying his scalpel side-to-side as if trying to hypnotize the scientist. "Looking for this?" he asked, smirking, optics a very dark shade of violet.

"Y- Yes... thank you, Ratchet," he replied, cautiously reaching out a servo to grab the scalpel from the medic's own. Ratchet pulled it back, grin even wider. "Nuh, uh, uh!" he yelled, then grabbed the microscope by his collar ridge, pulling him towards him and practically throwing him outside in the hallway. He pinned Perceptor to the wall and kissed him, Perceptor squirming and whining in protest.

Ratchet started feeling over wires, digging digits into them and making the red and teal mech moan. Before Ratchet was able to click open his interface panel, he pulled away, but not by choice, he could tell. Someone was forcing him away...

Sunstreaker wrapped both arms around the medic's chassis and pulled him into an Perceptor's quarters, locking the doors. Sideswipe took his place, and slammed Perceptor into the wall just as he was trying to run away. The red twin immediately clicked open his panel and the scientist's, swiping the tip of his spike over the tight, barely-used valve. Perceptor was ashamed he was being molested right there in the middle of the hallway, along with be molested overall.

Down the hall, Prowl was long gone, so no mech was nearby since Perceptor's quarters were at the far end of the Ark, his only neighbor being Wheeljack, with Prowl's a little further down and Optimus' at the end, and completely opposite of the med bay. Prowl did manage to hear a faint shout, though, and his optics flashed dark purple.

And they didn't change back.

He gripped his helm where it started to throb, and gritting his denta, he ran back to Perceptor's quarters. The only thing he could remember now was the scientist and medic, the different encounters with them, them working on Jazz...

_*Jazz...*_ he thought. He could barely remember being paged this morning, and leaving his lover while he laid there still in recharge. _*Ratchet... Perceptor...*_

His helm started to hurt even more, but all he could remember was Perceptor and Ratchet working on Jazz's processor. He wanted them, he _needed_ them... _*What the slag is wrong with me?*_ he asked himself, though almost subconsciously.

He finally turned the last corner, and saw Sideswipe pounded the one he wanted right into the wall. Perceptor was gripping the twin's shoulders, whining and crying out random pleads as his back hit the wall every time Sideswipe thrusted back in. The frontliner himself was a panting, grunting mess, desperate to overload into the scientist. Prowl scowled at Sideswipe, making him look over at him.

Both mechs' optics were the same purple-black, glaring at each other as Sideswipe pumped harder around Perceptor's spike, thrusting faster into the slick, clenching valve. He _had_ to overload, _hard_... had to make Perceptor scream... beg...

"Nooo!" yelled the tactician, lunging for Sideswipe and tackling him to the ground. The two completely attacked each other, writhing under and over each other, trying to pin the other down. Prowl punched Sideswipe in the helm a few times, creating rather large dents, but just made the twin more mad. Sideswipe reached and cupped both servos around Prowl's neck, asphyxiating him.

Perceptor shut his panel and fell to the ground, panting, crawling over to the two to help Prowl pin Sideswipe down. Prowl managed to do so while Perceptor fought with him, trying to pull the stasis wire in his neck cables.

Once the infected frontliner was stasis-locked, Prowl managed to take in a deep, gasping breath, and Perceptor slumped against the wall, cycling air more smoothly.

Prowl scooted off of Sideswipe, standing up and reaching out a servo to help Perceptor.

His optics had faded to their normal blue, and he suddenly couldn't remember anything he'd just felt literally a few nanokliks ago. "Are you alright?" he asked as Perceptor took the offered servo and stood up.

"Yes, I think so..." he replied. "Thank you, Prowl."

Prowl simply smiled, though his bright blue optics soon turned that horrific dark violet that he'd seen too many timed these past few joors. Perceptor's neutral look immediately dropped to a petrified expression. The only thing he could think was _*Oh, no...*_

But Prowl did nothing. He just stood there, staring at the scientist with dark, almost-black optics. When he did lean in the kiss Perceptor, the microscope did nothing in protest against it. He was too tired to act, and to be honest, he didn't absolutely hate it. He gave in to the kiss, offlining his optics and leaning into the tactician.

* * *

><p>[<strong>Reality:<strong> May 6th - 9:45 AM]

Jazz was shocked.

Truly shocked.

And he was _never_ shocked. He was always so chill, mellow, at peace...

But _this_. _This_ was beyond real. He couldn't believe his optics: Prowl, _his_ lover, making out with another mech.

And not just any mech. This was _Perceptor_! What the _slag_ was _his lover_ doing with _Perceptor_?

How much high grade did Sideswipe put in the energon dispensers?

Wait, no, Prowl said he threw the twins and Blue in the brig...

So how did they get out?

_*Stop thinking, Jazz. You'll just damage your processor even more.*_

He could hear thumping coming from further down the hall, but ignored it. He called out Prowl's name, and when he didn't get a reply, stepped forward and walked towards the tactician.

"Prowl!" he called again, gripping Prowl's shoulder and whipping him around to look at him. "What - "

Then he noticed the dark glare Prowl bestowed upon him. He suddenly felt a sharp shiver of cold run through his backstrut, and noticed his helm throbbing more painfully.

Then the unexpected happened: Prowl's devious smirk fell to a painful frown, and his optics offlined. He fell forwards, luckily to have Jazz catch him, and went limp in the saboteur's arms.

Jazz just stood, staring at his unconscious lover with an open jaw, about ready to collapse from his own weakness.

He gently set Prowl down on the ground, and summoned Ratchet.

No response.

He just let Prowl lay in the floor, and stood up to Perceptor's level. "Are ya okay?"

"Yes, fine..." he mumbled in reply.

After a nanoklik of silence, Perceptor continued. "You may consider paging Optimus. I don't think Ratchet is able to assist Prowl..."

Jazz was about to ask why when they heard the thumping again, and yells from two mechs Jazz thought sounded like, well, Sunstreaker and Ratchet... coming from Perceptor's quarters.

"Oh..." he let out, almost in a whisper. He didn't ask anymore questions, though. "I'll call Prime..."

* * *

><p>Hound finished locking the exterior of Perceptor's quarter's doors, and turned around to Perceptor.<p>

"There, I locked the outside so neither can get out for a while."

Perceptor nodded as the two started walking back to med bay. Optimus has brought Prowl back, and ordered Jazz to go back to his quarters since he wasn't completely healed yet. The scientist knew he could just spend a couple nights in med bay until he found a way to offline Ratchet and Sunstreaker and transport them back to med bay. Sure, the two would be pissed that they'd been trapped, but would just 'face it out since the disease was still affecting them. Cryn's usually settled down on its own if so much energy overpowered it, and interfacing would definitely help. They'd still require surgery, but at least they would offline more easy.

"Thank you, Hound," he muttered, not looking away from the floor ten feet in front of him.

"Not a problem, Perce."

As they reached med bay, Optimus was standing in between the berths which held Prowl and Ironhide. "Now, don't strain yourself, Perceptor. I know this is a lot of work for one mech, but you are able to do it."

"Thank you, Optimus. I will try."

Optimus and Hound left the med bay and closed the doors, Perceptor sitting down on a stool behind Prowl to work on his processor. He remembered he still hadn't found his scalpel, but lo and behold, there it was, right underneath Ironhide's helm the whole time.

Perceptor sighed and wedged the scalpel out from Ironhide's helm and started to peel back the thin sheets of metal on the tactician's own.


	8. Chapter 8: Explanations

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** ProwlxJazz, (small HoundxMirage)

Alright folks, this may be the chapter you've all been waiting for: the final explanation of how/why this all started. Sorta. The sliver will be explained in the next chapter or two.

I'll also explain pretty much anything else I missed in the next chapter or so; If you have any questions you can message me. O_o

(Oh, hint: major break up! I tried to make it as dramatic as possible. No crying or yelling at me though... you'll just have to see where it goes.)

And thanks again for the alert requests/faves/reviews! It really does make authors feel better. x)

Now read.

;P

* * *

><p>[May 6th - 8:45 PM]<p>

When Prowl onlined, the rest of the unconscious Autobots were still in stasis.

He tried to sit up, grabbing his helm and wincing at the sudden pain, but felt a cold servo rest on his chassis and push him back down to the berth.

"No you don't..." the voice mumbled. His optics were still blurry from his processor adjusting to the new neurochips, but he could make out Perceptor's figure looming above him.

"I still need to run some tests before I will gonna let you go."

Prowl just let out a small groan, and tried to sit up again, only to be shoved back down harder.

"I said stay."

He looked over at the scientist now standing at the monitor, then offlined his optics, listening to the annoying beeping growing louder as Perceptor scanned over him.

When Perceptor finished and turned back to the other monitor, Prowl spoke up.

"Where's Ratchet?"

The microscope looked over at him with a strange look, but remembered he couldn't remember much since the disease overpowered his processor. "Ratchet is, not feeling well."

"Oh," he said to himself as he offlined his optics again. "Does he have a virus?"

"... I suppose in a way..."

"Hm." Prowl remembered a fuzzy image of Perceptor a few cycles ago, and thought he remembered Ratchet somewhere.

He onlined his optics, bright blue and lighting up the ceiling, gasping. He suddenly remembered everything.

_Everything._

_*Oh, Primus... what the slag happened...?*_

Perceptor walked over to him and placed a servo on his chassis to check his internal temperature when Prowl smacked it away.

"What?" the microscope nearly shouted in startlement.

Prowl immediately grabbed his own shaking servo, looking up at Perceptor with apologetic optics. "I... I'm s-sorr-ry Per-Per-ceptor..." he managed to say through chattering denta. Why did he feel so cold? _*What is wrong with me?*_

"It's okay, Prowl... Let me just check your temperature - "

"No! I remember... I remem-mmber everthi-ing from last night... "

Perceptor's optics widened at this. "Everything, you say? Like, how the twins attacked Ratchet and me? How _you_ helped me, then kissed me?" he replied, picking up at tool and fixing Prowl's temperature mainframe while he spoke.

Prowl nodded, still gripping his own servos.

"... And how Jazz saw it all?" he finished, letting the room fill with complete silence.

Prowl's jaw went agape, and his optics widened with horror. Jazz _saw_? Everything? Oh, dear Primus, he can just imagine: Jazz walking out of their shared quarters, and the first thing he sees is his lover kissing another mech. How on Cybertron was he going to explain this? _*Maybe he'll understand... that it was just the disease.*_ After all, he didn't _mean_ to kiss Perceptor, it just happened... the _disease_ made him want it. But then again, Jazz hadn't known about Cryn's spreading throughout the Ark... he'd been the first one - at least thought to have been the first - to have the symptoms, let alone the disease, but was fixed and assigned to his quarters without any information.

"Jazz-zz saw me?"

"I'm afraid so. After you passed out in his arms - "

"I passed out in his arms?"

"Yes, and Optimus brought you back here, where I fixed you, and will soon grant you leave to _remain_ with Jazz. And nowhere _but_ your quarters. Anyway, I assigned Jazz back to your quarters, and he is assigned there for the rest of the orn. That goes for _both_ of you. Understood?"

Prowl didn't even try talking him out of it. He just nodded and let Perceptor finish working on him.

When he did finally finish, he helped Prowl up and sent him back to his and Jazz's quarters. "And don't make me call Prime on you two!" he called out as Prowl was halfway down the hall and waved him off.

* * *

><p>Prowl whooshed open the doors to his quarters.<p>

There was Jazz, laying on their berth, starring at the ceiling, still shivering.

Prowl slowly walked up to him, slightly shivering himself, and stopped at the side of the berth.

"Jazz..." he whispered, almost to himself after a klik or so awkward silence.

Jazz looked over to him, a look of hurt shining in his optics. "What."

"Jazz... I... I'm... so, sorry... *sigh* I can't even believe I did that. Jazz, it was the disease... - "

"Save it, Prowler."

Prowl looked at him with wide, bright optics, practically giving Jazz the spotlight in the darkened room.

"W - What? Why?"

"It's... Whatever, Prowl. I don't want to hear it."

Prowl stood there, mouth wide open, thankful Jazz couldn't see him very well in the dark room. He was speechless; He wanted Jazz so bad right now. He just wanted Jazz to forgive him... for them both to forget this ever happened. He loved him too much to let him go like this.

"Jazz, please..." he started, climbing on the berth to hug the saboteur. "Please..."

"Prowl, get off me..." he replied harshly, shoving Prowl's servo away and turning his helm to face the wall.

The room again filled with silence, until Prowl spoke up. "Jazz, _please_, I'm sor-rry... I am... really, _please_ forgive me..."

"Prowl, stop it!" he yelled, glaring back at Prowl and instantly filling the room with painful silence and air so thick you could chop it in half.

The tactician backed away, sitting on the edge of the berth, starring back at his lover. _Former_ lover.

"Alright," he eventually whispered, slowly sliding off the berth and walking towards the doors.

Without another word from either mech, Prowl exited their quarters, the doors gently shutting behind him. He felt like they were the doors to his lifestream... shutting on him. _Forever_.

He stood in the hallway, not moving, just starring at the wall. He walked towards it and thumped his helm against it, ignoring the sudden shot of pain. He brought a fist up, punching the wall, energon tears starting to swell up his hazed optics.

He offlined his optics, just letting the tears flow down his cheek plating. He turned around to face the closed doors, knowing it was over for him and his lover.

"I'm so sorry, Jazz..." he whispered to himself, slowly slumping down and sitting on the floor against the wall. He wiped away the tears, but just let the rest stream out as he covered his optics with his servos.

* * *

><p>When he finally pulled back the last thin sheet of metal to reveal Wheeljack's processor, Perceptor heard a shout from outside in the hallway.<p>

"Blue! *shriek* Stop!" called a faint voice. Apparently Sunstreaker and Sideswipe weren't the only ones who'd escaped earlier this morning.

Perceptor put down the scalpel and searching for the sliver. _*Where did I put it?*_

He found it on the counter and ran out the med bay. He ran up to where Bluestreak was holding Hound's arms behind his back, kissing his neck. He just finished recon with the scout a few cycles ago, so all he could remember was Hound and how he had wanted Ratchet and Perceptor a few joors ago before he was locked up. But now he'd escaped, and his desire for the medic and scientist was still growing.

Although there was no medic.

Just a nervous Perceptor standing outside the med bay doors, watching him, something glowing a blue-gray in his servo.

The blue-gray glowing thing suddenly flew out of Perceptor's servo and hit Blue's upper arm, making him yelp and pull away, letting Hound go. He gripped his upper arm and lost focus on Perceptor, who was now rubbing the sliver all over the gunner's chassis.

He really didn't know how rubbing the thing all over a mech's frame would cause them so much pain, but if it worked, he wouldn't question it. For now.

Bluestreak was trying to push Perceptor away, screaming, yelling at him to stop. Hound held him down as Perceptor kneed him in the abdomin, oozing out the blue-gray matter into Blue's neck wiring. He eventually came across the stasis wire, and sent the infected gunner into a not-so-peaceful recharge.

* * *

><p>[May 6th - 9:09 PM]<em><br>_

_*Fantastic,* _he thought._ *Just one more mech to add to the berths.*_

When Optimus brought back Prowl, he brought in Sideswipe not too long after. That was two.

He already had Bumblebee and Wheeljack. Two more.

Ironhide was already fixed, but since he was infected the hardest somehow, he still hadn't onlined. So Perceptor didn't really count him.

He still had to find a way to make Sunstreaker and Ratchet offline before he went in to retrieve them, so that would, soon, make two more.

And now he had Bluestreak.

Perceptor was just thankful Prowl hadn't been infected that severely, and was able to fix him quickly.

But the scientist was exhausted; He desperately needed energon.

The unconscious mechs weren't going anywhere, anyway.

As much as he didn't want to just leave them, and how much he needed to finish them, he himself would barely last.

He locked the med bay doors as he left, walking down the hallway and nearly hitting a wall about every ten feet. How did Ratchet put up with this?

Don't medics need recharge and energon, too?

_*Of course they do. Quit thinking.*_

"Oh, alright," he answered himself, not realizing Mirage came up next to him, wondering why he was talking to himself.

"Hey, Perceptor," he asked as he caught up. "Um, who are you talking to?"

Perceptor looked up._ *Talking to myself? Great, I'm already hallucinating over my tools... Now I've really lost it.*_ "Oh, I'm afraid I'm not sure, Mirage... I guess I'm just too exhausted to even think straight."

Mirage laughed as the two entered the rec room. "That's alright, Perce. Everyone gets a little loopy sometimes."

"I believe it is because of all the excess work I've been doing. I'm just not used to it like Ratchet is."

The two sat down at a booth with their energon, Perceptor nearly too tired to even drink it.

"Well, Prime, Hound, and I all agreed we should help you retrieve him and Sunny from your quarters... that way you can fix just him and then both of you can work on the others. And then you'll have your quarters back," he replied with a smile.

"Thank you, Mirage. That does sound like a good plan."

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Hound as he came over and sat by his lover.

"I was just explaining to Perceptor how we were going to help him get to Ratchet so he's not so exhausted."

"Ahh, I see," he said, putting an arm around Mirage's shoulder.

"I told him I greatly appreciate it," Perceptor added.

"Not a problem, Perce."

After a while, Perceptor asked them pretty much the same thing Ratchet did. "So, my statistics have shown that you were on a mission on Cybertron about an orn ago. Is that correct, Mirage?"

"Yes, Bumblebee and Jazz were spying inside the Decepticon base, while I kept guard of Bee and Prowl kept guard of Jazz. Why?"

"Because Ratchet told me the same thing you have just said, but that you didn't know where the sliver came from."

"That's right; I told him to ask Prowl or Jazz about it, as well as whatever they picked up. It might have been a trace of Cryn's..."

"The Decepticon base you are referring to is an ancient one. I wouldn't be surprised if Cybonic Plague was found, let alone a somewhat-minor disease such as Cryn's."

"Well, then how come the Decepticons on the base aren't infected?"

"How do we know they are not?"

Mirage was silent for a minute. He didn't remember anything Bee had reported about unhealthy behavior from the Decepticons... just the usual: discussion on plans to sabotage the Autobots, drunk card games, the occasional sex scene, the one with black optics...

_*Black optics...!*_ Mirage gasped, making Perceptor and Hound flinch. "I remember! Primus, how could I have forgotten... there _were_ ones with black optics! Bumblebee said he saw one with black optics pinning another normal-opticed 'Con to the wall and practically raping him. Neither of us really knew the meaning behind it, just some 'Con releasing a high energy build-up."

Hound tried shaking Mirage and Perceptor waved his servos, both in manners to get the noble to calm down. But Mirage kept ranting.

"_Primus_... What if... What, how..."

"Calm down, 'Raj!" interrupted Hound, finally getting him to relax somewhat.

"But... But what if... They can infect _others_, Perceptor! What if they infect other Decepticons, or Autobots?" he exclaimed, standing up, only to have Hound shove him to sit back down.

"Now, Mirage, relax. The Decepticons you were spying on were only Decepticon Minors. They're used for recon and information. They're _stationed_ there... The only way they _could_ leave Cybertron is if Megatron ordered them to, which shouldn't be for another couple months. Besides, Decepticon frames are built much 'stronger' than ours, and can withstand much more, including viruses. If they _are_ infected, the disease will soon go away on its own, or at least weaken enough to not do much damage to others they attack."

Mirage seemed to relax greatly at this long reassuring message, and slumped against the booth's headboard. Hound gripped his shoulder tighter and smiled at him, almost telepathically telling him it would be alright.

"So, we have the basic idea of how Cryn's got aboard the Ark," stated Hound. "But how did Bumblebee and Jazz both get their servos on it if they were just prowling through the ducts?"

"Chances are Decepticons put the virus there purposely to infect trespassing Autobot spies, such as Bumblebee and Jazz. They themselves wouldn't spend much time in the ducts, so it wouldn't affect them, although the only way they'd discover it is if they got it themselves," answered Perceptor.

"Hm." he replied, then after a while he continued. "Well what about that sliver? Do you have any idea how Prowl got it, or _what it is_ for that matter?"

"No, not a clue. Ratchet knew more about it than I did, but now I'm afraid the information will have disappeared once I fix his neurochips... He did tell me one of his theories, though..."

"Well what is it?" asked Mirage.

"He told me he'd seen it before in the war. It was a common trap set by the Decepticons... he doesn't remember much, but he believes they are called 'Drown Crystals'."

"'Drown' Crystals?"

"Yes, and apparently the substance in which they were coated would literally 'drown' you in pain, as well as they were 'drowned' in oil on the Cybertronian underground metal. He never quite figured out what the substance was, which is why it's such a big deal to him now. He said the Decepticons would wear adhesive-protective gloves to place the crystals in Autobot regions, or use them as weapons."

Mirage and Hound starred at Perceptor with wide optics and slightly-open mouths, wanting him to continue.

"However, I am studying it, trying to finish Ratchet's gathering of information, even though he told me not to. He knew he was infected, but he still had a little time left, and wanted us both to fix as many infected mechs as we could before we lost him as well. I was surprised that it didn't take that long, though... all of a sudden he's fully infected and attacking me, and is now in the company of Sunstreaker until we can find a way to bring them to med bay, which you both know about..."

"Yeah, we'll help you, Perceptor. That is a little strange..." Hound said, looking over at Mirage. "I don't think Jazz showed full signs of the disease until at least an orn after he was actually infected, and here's Ratchet, attacking you after not even two joors."

"It may be because he was attacked by the disease highly, so viciously..." Perceptor added, looking down at his energon. "I just wish I would have rescued him before Ironhide overloaded and infected him..."

"You did all that you could, Perceptor. It was extremely brave of you to run in on them like you did, and help Ratchet."

"... Thank you."

"Speaking of Ironhide," chimed in Mirage, "Is he fixed? I know you said he'd been infected the hardest... how is that?"

"It may be because he interfaced with quite a few mechs... the neurochips that were infected were surrounded by more specific memory chips that usual. He probably remembered his recon mission with Bumblebee a few joors back, so he took him, although Bumblebee was more than likely already infected from the Cybertron mission, which just added to Ironhide's infection."

"Oh... Okay, that makes sense."

"He also attacked Prowl, probably from remembering his recon mission he was going on with him, and Prowl was too already infected from interfacing with Jazz, so that too added up. I believe he was the first, and I think _only_ mech, to actually interface with Ratchet, though it was still enough to infect him hardcore like that. Sunstreaker got to him after he was already infected, so I guess that does not really count."

Mirage and Hound looked at each other, then back to Perceptor, expecting him to go on.

"Well, there isn't much more to say... As far as the sliver goes, I think I will need to research and study it more before I come to a final conclusion. I still would like to know how Prowl got if Ratchet said they are nearly extinct, and how it produces such pain... the factors may by simpler than I expect, but I hope to try. _After_ we bring Ratchet and Sunstreaker back to med bay."

"Alright, Perce. That sounds good. Let us know as soon as you have a plan, or if we can do anything to help."

"Yes, thank you, again."

Perceptor stood up and dumped his energon down the disposal and placed the dirty cube on the counter, and walked out the rec room. Now maybe he could finally work on getting his friend back... and his quarters... and his processor... and his dignity.


	9. Chapter 9: Explanations  pt 2

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** RatchetxSunstreaker

Sorry guys... This chapter may be a bit boring. It's mainly just Percy and Prowl chitchatting about the sliver - *ahem* - Drown crystal.

But on the other servo, (ehehe) it explains a lot about it.

Sticky at the end... and suspenseful.

Enjoy the probably most-boring chapter!

* * *

><p>[May 6th - 11:38 PM]<p>

Walking down the hallway, the scientist was playing with a datapad to calculate the precise time that Ratchet and Sunstreaker would offline due to exhaustion.

He was going back to his quarters; He would listen to hear if they were online or off. If they were in stasis, he would determine how long they had been and when they would online. If they weren't, well, the sounds of their 'activities' would determine how much longer they could go.

It was, indeed, simpler than he had imagined. At this point.

Although, one little obstacle slowed him down.

As he turned the corner after passing Optimus' office, he nearly toppled over a recharging Prowl sitting in the floor.

"Prowl?" he asked, almost dropping the datapad on top of him.

Prowl slowly onlined and looked up at Perceptor. It took him an astrosecond to realize he was sitting in the floor outside his and Jazz's quarters, dry energon tears still crusted on his faceplate.

"Yeah?" he asked, standing up to Perceptor's level.

"Um... what, are you doing? Are you alright?"

Prowl sighed deeply and placed over servo over his offlined optics. "... No, Perceptor. I don't think I am."

Perceptor placed a free servo on the tactician's shoulder, but Prowl jerked away in shock. "What are you doing?" he yelled at the microscope.

"I was just - "

"Giving in again?"

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Perce. I _remember_. Jazz _remembers_. The disease made me kiss you... you didn't have to give in! You're_ half_ the reason why Jazz doesn't want anything to do with me anymore!"

Perceptor was really flabbergasted... he didn't realize he'd given in to the kiss. Was he infected, too? A thousand thoughts raced through his processor all at once.

"Prowl... please, let me explain..."

"There's no need to explain."

"Prowl! Stop!" he yelled back as Prowl walked around him and down the hallway. But didn't stop.

"Prowl, I was infected too!"

This did make Prowl stop. He slowly turned around to face Perceptor, but with a look of hatred in his blue optics. When he looked into Perceptor's, he noticed the tiny glint of purple he had apparently missed earlier that joor.

"What...? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Why? To freak them out over nothing, and assume we're all lost causes due to my tiny infection? It wasn't worth it, Prowl. I'm not that bad off; I wasn't attacked as bad as Ratchet was."

Prowl walked over to the microscope, optics and scowl still filled with pain and sorrow. "Your optics..."

"I know... I may only be infected with a small dose. Hence the reason why I didn't do anything else except... give in..."

Prowl was silent, but his frown was screaming a hundred things at once. Perceptor knew Prowl was grieving over losing Jazz...and over how he felt so _stupid_ kissing him... At the moment he didn't care about experimenting with Ratchet and Sunstreaker. He just wished he could take back the kiss... that one little kiss that, now after realizing it, had changed both their lives for the time being.

"Prowl... I'm sorry. I am. If I could take it back, I would... I'm so sorry Jazz won't understand. It is probably because the disease is still alive in his circuits, and it's messing with his processor. Perhaps when he is better he will understand..."

"... Do you really think that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better..."

"Both," he said with a slight smile.

Prowl smiled back. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Perce..."

"It's alright, Prowl, I completely understand. And like I said, it's just the disease messing up your processor."

The two turned around and walked towards the scientist's occupied quarters. As they got closer, they could hear the moans coming from inside, along with the hard clanging of metal.

When they did reach the doors, the loud moans quietened down, and eventually stopped. Perceptor was glad, though also edgy, that the two inside had just offlined and that he was able to tell when. He placed the datapad up the door to calculate their heat levels, and how exhausted they were to let him know when they would online again.

"From the looks of this datascreen, their heat levels show that they should be out for a couple cycles," whispered Perceptor.

Prowl looked over at the datapad and saw their heat levels exceed into the danger zone. How many overloads did they have?

"Do you have a plan?" he whispered back.

"No, not yet... I need to go back to the med bay."

"... I'll come with you," replied Prowl after a while when Perceptor turned to head back.

The microscope let out a small chuckle. "Alright, Prowl. I would like to ask you some things anyway."

Prowl mainly just didn't have anything better to do; Jazz was still in their quarters, and he wasn't going to kick him out since he was still quite sick. He didn't want to stay in Jazz's old quarters, either, so he really didn't have anywhere to go. Prime nor Perceptor would let him go back to shifts, since he too was still quite unhealthy. Besides, Perceptor said he wanted to ask him some things, anyway.

When they got back to the med bay, Prowl shut the doors behind them and looked around. He hadn't seen so many unconscious Autobots in there like this in a while; 6 mechs laying side-by-side on 6 berths, practically lining up the back wall.

But Perceptor paid them no mind.

He simply walked right past them, as if they weren't even there. He hooked the datapad up to a monitor.

"So... if you _do_ have the disease, and you can't fix yourself, how are you still functioning properly?"

"My case is minor. If anything it would soon go away on its own, or weaken by the time I get Ratchet fixed. Sure, I've had a few glitches, but I'm still able to think clearly."

"Ah..." he said to himself, walking over to Perceptor. "...Well, um, what did you want to ask me?"

"Oh, yes. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the sliver you got wedged in your servo the other joor. Do you think it was from your last mission on Cybertron?"

"Probably... I mean it wasn't there before we left, but after we came back I started to notice it."

"How long did it take for you to notice after you returned from the mission?" he asked as if Prowl was his mental patient.

"I'd say a few joors... I remember we returned on a Friday, and I saw Ratchet about it I think the following Wednesday or Thursday. I do remember a slight pain every so often in my servo as I kept watch of Jazz, but didn't really think much of it."

"Hm..." Perceptor mumbled, looking at the monitor's screen and reviewing the data for the fifth time.

He turned around to face him, servo on his chin. "I believe - well, actually, Ratchet told me this theory - that it was a Drown Crystal."

"Oh, yes, I've heard of those... But I was told they were extinct..."

"Not quite. I did some research, and it turns out the crystals still remain scarce in a few regions on Cybertron, near the Kaon gladiator pits, where you were stationed for your mission."

"Oh, lovely..." stated Prowl quietly. "Well, are they dangerous? I haven't heard that much about them... just that they're painful and contagious if not treated."

"That's true. The crystals are coated with a tri-electrochemical resistant layer to protect itself against metal, and the substance is highly powerful and infectious."

"Against metal?"

"Yes, strange I know, but they were designed artificially _by_ the Decepticons to withstand metal and be a weapon towards the Autobots. They probably know about the crystals enough to avoid them themselves, but hidden enough to fool spying Autobots."

"Ahh, I see," Prowl replied, stroking his chin. "Well, _how_ hidden for me to not even calculate it or pick it up with my sensor?"

"Drown Crystals remain deep within the oil of the Cybertronian underground metal. The oil would protect it though, so no explosions would happen or give away their hiding spot. Do you remember any oil while you were guarding Jazz?"

"Yes, actually, I remember there was a little oil on the ground where I would guard him. I didn't think much of it though..."

"You didn't need to. The crystals probably sensed your metal coating and made their way up through the oil and attached to you. The rest probably fell off when you moved around, but I suppose one stayed wedged inside your servo. You didn't notice them because they take a while to actually affect a mech's circuits."

"Hm... makes sense... I guess. Am I still contagious?"

"Not necessarily... With whom have you come in contact with?"

"Um... well, Jazz..." he said shyly, letting a small smile slip across his faceplate. "...When Ironhide attacked me, I remember the blue-gray fluid seeping into his shoulder..."

Perceptor let out a sigh. "So he is infected," he said, looking over at the recharging Ironhide. "No wonder he's taking so long to wake up. His internal healing systems are working overtime... When he _does_ wake up, he'll be in a _lot_ of pain."

"Who else?" he continued after a nanoklik.

"Um, well, I believe that's it, as far as I can remember... I just vaguely remember... you..."

Perceptor hummed in agreement and turned to face the monitor again. Prowl could tell the scientist was starting to feel a little awkward towards the ordeal now, too.

Hopefully the disease was wearing off enough for it to bring him back to his senses.

After a while, Perceptor spoke up. "From the looks of this data, I would give Ratchet and Sunstreaker no more than 3 kliks until they awake from recharge. We won't make it... and I still have to prepare for my plan."

Prowl walked over to the monitor. "When would they slip out again?"

"Who knows... Perhaps we could stand guard and _wait_... however awkward that may be..."

"... I suppose... I'll keep watch with you. Just in case something out of the ordinary happens."

"Alright... I will need to have Hound with me as well. He's the only one who knows how to open the lock, besides Prime, who's busy. I believe my plan will work... I just need an assistant, so it's good you are coming along."

"Yeah, alright, I'll page him," he replied, pressing a digit to his audio receptor to page the scout.

* * *

><p>[May 7th - 12:55 AM]<p>

Hound, Prowl, and Perceptor all sat against the wall outside the scientist's quarters.

This was, by far, the most awkward silence they have ever been through. In their lifestream.

No one spoke... just listened to the groaning and loud clashing of metal-on-metal on the other side of the doors.

Primus, how hard were they going?

Apparently Prowl wasn't 100% healthy yet... The sounds were spiking up his internal temperature drastically.

He kept replaying images of what he thought was going on:

Ratchet was on his back, his helm thunking against the wall and lower back slamming against the berth every time Sunstreaker thrusted _unbelievably_ hard into the medic's tight, slick, dripping, clenching valve...

The thought made Prowl shudder.

They were currently working towards their 5th overload... he didn't know how they were still this energetic.

He imagined Ratchet's face... mouth widely agape, whimpering, yelling, as he could hear from outside. He was gripping one servo on the side of the berth, the other gripping Sunny's shoulder.

"Oh... PRIMUS... SUNNY!" he screamed for all three mechs to hear.

Sunny groaned in reply, straddling the medic's hips as he thrusted uncontrollably into his valve.

Ratchet keened as his valve clenched faster around the thick, throbbing spike... Sunstreaker thrusted harder and faster, keeping up a nice pace for the medic.

Ratchet started grunting as Sunstreaker's trusts practically made him hold on for dear life, his whole frame moving back and forth dramatically.

_*Oh Primus...*_ Prowl thought as he heard Ratchet scream again, louder.

"SUNNY! UGGHHH... NNGGGG... Oh... Oh, OH... PRIMUS..."

He could practically_ hear_ the feeling of that tight valve being pounded...

All three mechs sat there, jaws dropped, staring at the doors. Prowl was basically turning red at the heat building inside him... He needed to release it.

Of all times he and Jazz could have broken up, it had to be when he, and him both, were infected with a interface-crazed virus... _Primus_, all he wanted right now was to 'face Jazz into oblivion... _so hard_, until he offlined in exhaustion after many,_ many_ overloads...

He was so tempted to run back into their quarters and_ rape_ him if he had too.

But of course then Jazz would _definitely_ never talk to him again...

Another shout brought him back to reality.

Well, _his_ reality, of Sunstreaker and Ratchet going Primus knows how hard in there.

He could tell they were close to overload... He just kept imagining.

"Oh Primus... Oh Primus..."

He could just see Ratchet now gripping both servos on the sides of the berth, shouting "Oh Primus!" over and over again like he was. His valve started clenching like mad, and he keened as Sunstreaker went even harder, faster, deeper, so desperate to reach overload.

The twin's spike shot out thick spurts of transfluid all the way up Ratchet's throbbing valve, moaning the loudest he had all night.

He lifted the medic's hips up to get in deeper as he overloaded, thrusting so hard it made Ratchet nearly tear up.

Ratchet was literally hanging on to the berth for dear life... he wouldn't be surprised if he offlined for a few joors after this overload. He felt the transfluid continuing to spurt up his valve, and finally overloaded.

And they were both overloading _hard_.

Ratchet screamed and threw his helm back, moaning, bucking up towards each thrust, and soon crying out "Oh!"s, "Ahhh!"s, and all sorts of whining noises, his own transfluid spurting out of his valve all over the berth, floor, and Sunny's spike.

Sunstreaker continued thrusting, bucking hard into the medic; This was probably the longest overload ever had experienced. Sunstreaker eventually settled down, thrusts weakening, and lowered Ratchet onto the berth gently.

Both were still moaning, optics offlined, cycling air harshly.

"Pr... Primus..." Sunstreaker whispered as he retracted his still-throbbing spike from the stretched port. Ratchet groaned at the feeling, and eventually loosened his grip on the berth.

Perceptor would have to get the dents buffed out.

All three mechs sat still, starring at the doors. Hound and Prowl looked over at Perceptor, who was too in shock, starring at the doors as if they were giant energon cubes just for him.

"How much time do you think we'll have?" asked Hound, looking back at the doors.

"With the sound of that overload, I'd say they'd be out for at least a cycle. This being their 5th one would drain much energy out of them."

The mechs stood up and walked towards the doors, now silence behind them. Hound fiddled with the lock and opened it, and was now picking the lock to the interior. Once done, he manually swooshed the doors open so they wouldn't make much noise, and slower in case the infected mechs _weren't_ in stasis and tried to make a run for it.

But once the doors were fully open, they could see the two mechs offlined and recharging, Sunstreaker sprawled out on the floor and Ratchet on the berth.

Hound walked in first, almost like a human tip-toeing. Perceptor followed and gestured for Hound to stop. Prowl stayed in the doorway, guarding the hallway, for multiple reasons. Perceptor passed the jeep, spray gun in servo.

The glowing blue-gray inside the tube was the only light in the room, save for the mechs' dull optics. Perceptor walked over to Sunstreaker first, and aimed the gun at the golden twin.

He pulled the trigger, and the blue-gray matter sprayed out all over Sunstreaker's frame. He onlined his optics and shrieked, writhing in the floor at the sudden burst of pain.

He offlined quickly, though Perceptor didn't move for a while. He was startled when Ratchet stirred from being woken up by Sunstreaker's shrieking, and sat up, dark purple optics focusing on Hound, then Perceptor.

The microscope was silent and still, as if Ratchet couldn't see him unless he did move.

Perceptor slowly pointed the gun at the smiling Ratchet as Hound crept around him to pull the stasis wire on Sunny's neck to make extra sure he wouldn't online.

Ratchet did nothing; Perceptor pulled the trigger and sprayed the medic with the matter, making him flinch.

But flinch is all he really did.

It was strange, thought Perceptor. His smile just dropped to a frown, and he passed out on the berth. Why didn't he seem to go through any pain?

Perceptor lowered the gun and walked over to Ratchet. He looked at his face... The innocent face he knew that now portrayed unbelievable facts behind it.

How was this the same Ratchet he knew?

Why did this have to happen to his best friend?

Best friends?

He just wanted him back. He wished he would have rescued him sooner. This was mainly his fault...

A whisper from the hallway brought him away from his grieving.

"Mech approaching... "

"Alright, Prowl," Perceptor whispered back. He quickly pulled the stasis wire and motioned for Hound to come on.

The approaching mech was Jazz. Prowl could make him out just as he turned into their quarters.

He had almost forgotten about the saboteur. Seeing him shot a burst of memories through the processor, and a painful frown across his faceplate.

But they'd been the hallway the whole time...

How did Jazz leave without them noticing?

He must have left before they came to Perceptor's quarters.

But they would mean he would have been gone for two cycles.

Where did he go for two cycles if he's not permitted to work?

Is he already seeing another mech?

Prowl's processor was overwhelmed by all the different thoughts racing through it. _*Stop it, Prowl. You're just worried... You need recharge.*_

Right. Recharge. Like he could just walk right in to his quarters now.

_*I suppose I could recharge in the med bay... if there's room...*_

Hound jerked him away from his daydreaming with a slight shove of the arm.

"You okay, Prowl? You haven't said a word since we left Perce's quarters."

"... Fine..." he whispered. He didn't want the whole Ark to know his incident with Jazz. Only Perceptor and Optimus knew. And only _they_ would.

Silence filled the spaces between the three mechs once again as they walked back to med bay.

Once they arrived, Hound closed the doors behind them and followed Perceptor to the monitor. Prowl stayed by the doors, arms crossed and optics offlined. He really was exhausted; He desperately needed recharge. Worrying in the middle of the night wasn't helping with the healing of his processor at all.

After a while of talking and discussing with each other, Hound turned around to look for Prowl. He saw him by the doors, optics offline and a look of sorrow on his faceplate. He walked over to him, concerned about him. Why had he been acting strange lately? he thought, and gently brushed a servo over the tactician's shoulder, making him jump and online.

"Sorry, Prowl... I'm just concerned. What's wrong?"

"Nothing... I'm fine, Hound. Really. Just... tired."

Hound's concerned optics didn't leave Prowl's. "Alright..." he eventually replied, and walked back over to Perceptor. He wasn't going to let this go, though. He _knew_ something was up with Prowl, and it was more than just his fuzzy processor.


	10. Chapter 10: The Kinky Ones

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** BlasterxTracks, HoundxMirage, ProwlxJazz

Sorry for practically forgetting about Blaster and Tracks, although I'm sure some of you could care less about that pair. I like them... And I figured I needed to include them again... and some kinky time with Hound and 'Raj. xP

Blaster's cassettes are also mentioned, although they don't technically exist until G2. Oh well... I couldn't resist. It's a fanfic - I can do as I please. They were so cute in the original movie, right after Wheelie of course:)

The ending may be a bit cheesy... not too bad though. It continues in the next chapter... much mechsmut to go. Ehehehe.

Oh, and lookie there, over 5,000 words... this is probably the longest chapter. Sorry if ya don't like long chapters; My personal opinion says this chapter's worth it. Esp the end.

* * *

><p>[May 7th - 5:35 AM]<p>

Tracks walked into the rec room with Blaster following him. Both had just returned from separate recon missions last night, but needed to catch up on how much time they'd lost together while they were apart before they did anything else.

And such activities may or may not have been rather kinky ones.

"Hey, guys!" called Mirage from a booth.

Tracks looked and waved, Blaster smiling and following his lover to the energon dispenser. When they sat down, Hound shifted and brought his arm away from Mirage's shoulder to sit upright.

"Hey guys," replied Blaster as they sat down across from the two. "How's it going? Miss anything interesting?"

"Mmm... nope, not really..."

The four were silent for a minute, Blaster trying to figure out what was making Mirage so tense. He knew about the disease, but they left before it got as worse as it did.

"Were is everyone?" asked Tracks, sipping his energon. "Looks like half the crew is missing..."

"Med bay," said Hound.

"Med bay? Why there?"

"...Ratchet is... not feeling well, so Perceptor is kind of behind schedule, being the only available assistant. That's all." He didn't want the two to know about Ratchet, or how a good chunk of the crew was unconscious in med bay due to the disease. He didn't want it spreading around the Ark, and neither did Prime, Perceptor, nor Prowl, even though the tactician was still under release.

"Hm... Well, what about that disease?" whispered Blaster, leaning in so the few mechs nowhere near them could hear.

"It's... okay. Perceptor's working on it..." replied Mirage, leaning back in his booth and shifting into Hound's hold after he was done speaking. Hound mumbled something into Mirage's audio receptor, making the noble look up at him with a slight smile. He shook his head, and looked back at the boombox.

He and Tracks looked at each other, the corvette sipping his energon while his door wings fluttered at Blaster. Said mech smiled, and turned back to Mirage.

Hound kept whispering something into his lover's audio, but Mirage just kept smiling and mumbling "no"s while smiling at his energon.

"C'm'ooooon... pleeeease..." he mumbled quietly, gently pressing into Mirage with his own frame, shoving the blue and white mech towards the edge of the seat.

"Hound, stop!" he whispered back, but Hound had pushed him so far off the seat that he was forced to stand up so he didn't fall to the floor. Hound jumped up right behind him and grabbed his servo, leading him out of the rec room doors. Mirage tried to drag them both back to the booth, but he always seemed to be a little weaker this early in the mornings.

Tracks and Blaster watched them, along with all the other mechs in the room, smiling slightly. When Hound eventually pulled Mirage out into the hallway and shut the doors, everyone returned to their original positions. Blaster moved to sit across from Tracks, and they both slurped at their energon in sweet silence.

* * *

><p>"H- Hound..." Mirage said hoarsely as he was pulled through the hall to their quarters. "What's wrong with you?"<p>

Hound said nothing; When they got to their quarters, he shut the doors and practically picked Mirage up and threw him to the berth, pinning him down and delving in to kiss his lips.

Mirage grunted at the sudden gesture and bucked up into Hound, trying to get him to get off. Hound smiled at the movements, and moaned in satisfaction. He tilted his head to kiss his lover more passionately, and Mirage's squirming lessened under his touches. Instead he responded by kissing him back, both mechs silent and enjoying the deep kiss.

The noble reached up to cup around Hound's neck, bringing his helm up to get in deeper. Hound parted his lips with his glossa and swiped it over Mirage's, making him moan in a smile.

When Hound finally broke the kiss and pulled away, they just stared into each other's optics. Mirage's neutral smile dropped to a slight frown when he noticed the reason for Hound's strange actions: purple optics shining down on him with a smirk plastered across his faceplate.

Mirage really wasn't surprised; As much as Hound hung out around Perceptor and the infected Autobots, he was bound to catch it himself sooner or later.

And now he was pinning his own lover down the berth, showing the well-known signs of Cryn's towards him.

Mirage's optics widened as he remembered what was happening, and quickly started to squirm out from under Hound's grip. But Hound was still stronger than him at 6:00 in the morning, so he really had no choice.

He grunted as Hound kissed him again, servos still cupped around his neck and trying to push himself away. He heard his panel click open, followed by Hound's and could only think one thing:

_*I'm so done...*_

He didn't want to be infected; He knew Perceptor already had too many patients, and two more would certainly not help. As much as he knew and loved how Hound was very kinky when he went dominant and rough like this, he couldn't afford to be infected.

But by the looks of Hound's optic color, he didn't look that bad off. They weren't as dark as usual for Cryn's; just a hint of purple, but enough to tell he had been infected.

"Please..." he started as Hound pulled away and grinded his bare interfacing equipment against his, making him shudder. "H- Hound... please..."

Hound paid him no mind, though. He extended his spike, already fully pressurized, and sat up. He cupped a servo around it while the other pressed against Mirage's chassis to keep him down, and started pumping his own spike.

Mirage watched him, heat building rapidly inside him from the moans and facial expressions on his lover's faceplate. He could feel his valve filling with lubricant, clenching in on itself, begging for that thick spike which Hound was pumping, harder now.

He gripped the base and jerked it, hard and rough, looking down at Mirage and smiling. He scooted upwards so he was kneeling on the berth, Mirage's chassis laying in between his spread legs. His spike was hovering just above Mirage's lips, and the noble couldn't help but reach his helm up and lick the throbbing, wet spike.

Hound cried out as Mirage swiped his glossa ever so lightly across the tip of his trembling spike, stimulating what seemed like millions of sensors. He jerked it off harder, gasping desperately as his climax approached quickly. He positioned the spike against Mirage's lips, letting the noble bring it in and suck it.

Which he did, rather hard.

Hound bucked against Mirage's mouth, forcing it in deeper, crying out as he nearly toppled over the edge in overload.

He freed both his servos to grasp onto Mirage's arms, bucking into his mouth, letting Mirage send him into oblivion.

"Nggg... M-Miraaage!" he shouted, overload taking him hard. Hound bucked wildly into Mirage's warm mouth, whimpering as transfluid spurted out down the noble's throat.

Mirage nearly overloaded himself; Hound's shouts were so kinky he automatically burned with heat and desire to be pounded by the scout. He wanted him so bad right now... he didn't want the overload to stop. He wished they could just frag each other for the rest of the entire joor...

After Mirage sucked every last drop, Hound groaned and caught himself before he collapsed on top of him. He retracted his spike, and scooted down to align his spike with Mirage's clenching valve.

Mirage moaned at the though of being fragged by the infected mech, although he was seducing him quite a bit. At the moment he couldn't decide what he wanted more: hard sex from his lover, or be freed from being infected by his lover.

_*I'm so done...*_ he though again. _*I have no choice...*_

He spread his legs for his lover, desperate for release from his energy build-up. "Frag me, Hound... Hard, rough... please..."

Hound smirked in reply and looked up at him, leaning inwards. "No problem..." he whispered, and kissed him on the lips. When he pulled away he found the entrance to his valve, and gently maneuvered his spike up through the protective platelets, making Mirage moan and gasp.

When he was deep enough, he pulled out so only the tip remained inside. He slid a digit over the valve entrance where his spike rested, and rubbed at it in circles repeatedly. Mirage cried out at the passionate sensation... He wanted him so bad now. He bucked lightly to get Hound's spike to penetrate him more, and Hound obliged.

He thrusted his spike in deeper through the platelets, and pressed a digit inside to stretch it. "Ahh..." Mirage let out, tossing his helm back, wanting to just ride the spike all morning. _Primus_ it felt good... He hadn't been stretched like this since when they were younger and went hard in the middle of the forest. He remembered being handcuffed to a tree as Hound pounded him, nearly making the tree break and fall on them when they bucked wildly due to their incredible overload. Neither cared, though; Their favorite thing to do together in their favorite place on Earth... it was unbelievable.

Another quick thrust brought him back to reality of Hound pounding him, although this time on a regular berth. And possibly infecting him.

"Oh... Oh... Hound... Primus..." he choked out in between harsh cycles of air as Hound picked up a constant hard pace. Every time he thrusted he hit an internal sensor node, making him reach his climax fast. Mirage tightened his grip around Hound's neck, rocking with his movements every time he thrusted. Hound moaned as he went harder and faster while Mirage's valve clenched tighter every time, making Hound reach overload quickly.

Both mechs started to pant, and Mirage spread his legs even wider to feel the spike penetrate him deeper. Hound upped the pace, and continued hitting the main sensor node over and over again, until Mirage eventually keened and bucked wildly in overload.

Hound shouted out Mirage's name repeatedly as he felt the slick valve clench incredibly tight around his throbbing spike. Mirage panted harder and let out hard huffs as the overload made his frame buck and spasm up into Hound's hips, servos still cupped around Hound's neck.

Hound himself finally overloaded after thrusting faster, thick spurts of transfluid gushing out deep into his lover's valve. He groaned and bucked at the sensation, and soon both mechs' movements lessened.

"Ohhh... Priiimus..." Mirage whispered as Hound retracted his spike and collapsed next to him on the berth. Both mechs were silent, and just starred at the ceiling, listening to each other's vents quiet down. Hound turned on his side and reached out a servo to cradle Mirage, offlining his optics.

Mirage offlined as well, enjoying the pleasurable sensation of his burning valve and Hound's warm presence holding him. He shut his panel, Hound doing the same, and turned his helm so his faceplate was nestled in Hound's.

The scout smiled and kissed his nasal ridge, stroking the noble's frame with his servo. It felt so good to interface with his lover, and to just hold him like this...

"Hound?" Mirage whispered, onlining his optics.

"Hmmm," he said in reply.

"Do you feel okay?" Mirage could see Hound's optics were their normal shade of blue now, but knew too well how that didn't mean he didn't have the disease anymore.

"Yeah. Fine. Why?"

"Well... your optics... were, purple. Like the other infected mechs... I was just worried."

"I'm sure it's just a small case... not as serious as the others," replied, offlining his optics.

Mirage was quiet for a minute, looking into Hound's offlined optics. "... Will you see Perceptor about it?"

"Perceptor? That frantic microscope's already got more than he can handle. I'm fine, 'Raj. I don't need 'em."

"Hound..."

"'Raj." he interrupted, practically glaring at Mirage with a smirk.

The noble just laid there and didn't say anymore, looking up at the ceiling. Maybe Hound was right; Maybe they both just needed to take it easy.

"... Well, when does your shift start?" he asked a few kliks later.

"I'm off today..."

Mirage looked over at him. Off? For the whole joor? So was he... Prime thought it best to allow some of his mechs a chance to rest and take it easy, and both he and Hound were main soldiers.

He realized what he thought earlier didn't apply to what he was thinking now.

_*Great... A whole joor of interfacing with Hound, and he has to be infected.*_

He just hoped that Hound was right, and that his case was mild. He didn't want Hound to force him, either. He just wanted his lover back... the Hound he _loved_ to interface with. And didn't have to worry about.

* * *

><p>[May 7th - 8:17 AM]<p>

"Thank you, Optimus," said Perceptor as Optimus lowered Ratchet down on an empty berth. He moved Ironhide and Wheeljack to the back room to make room for extra mechs since they still hadn't onlined yet, although Ironhide should any cycle now.

"Not a problem, Perceptor. Now maybe we can get our medic back, and you your processor," the leader replied with a smile under his guard mask.

Perceptor smiled back and watched Prowl lower Sunstreaker down on the other berth. _Finally_, he could work on fixing Ratchet.

Prowl and Perceptor watched Optimus leave the med bay. When the doors were closed, Perceptor turned back to Ratchet, scalpel in servo, already prepared to finally get his friend back.

"Are you alright, Perceptor?" asked Prowl, noticing the slight trembling of his servo as he placed it on Ratchet's helm.

"Yes, fine... just a little cold."

"Oh... Well, maybe you shouldn't be doing this if you're not stable..."

"I'm fine!" he snapped, glaring at the tactician. Prowl's concerned look dropped to one full of sadness, and Perceptor immediately put the scalpel down and walked over to him.

"Primus, Prowl..." he started. "I'm so sorry. I did not mean to snap at you... I just _need_ to get this done, no matter what's supposedly wrong with me."

Prowl looked up at him from gazing at the floor. "I know... I understand. It's alright."

"I know me yelling at you is the last thing you need right now," he replied with a smile, placing a servo on Prowl's shoulder. "Everything will be alright."

Prowl nodded and smiled back, following the scientist back to where Ratchet recharged on the berth.

Prowl watched in silence as Perceptor started peeling back the thin sheets of metal on Ratchet's helm, revealing his darkened processor.

* * *

><p>[May 7th - 10:28 AM]<p>

When he walked into the rec room, the first thing he felt was a pair of cold optics on him.

Prowl slowed down, but didn't stop in the middle of the rec room. He slowly walked over to the energon dispenser, grabbing an empty cube and pulling the trigger, letting energon spill out into it.

He saw Blaster sitting and talking to Beachcomber over in the corner booth, and went over to sit by them, ignoring the feeling of optics watching his every move. He was afraid if he looked around, he'd see a mech, or mechs, watching him... Who would be watching him? He didn't want to know. He just wanted to relax and take a break from med bay like Perceptor ordered him to.

Blaster almost subconsciously scooted over to make room for Prowl as the tactician sat down by him, still talking to Beachcomber. Prowl just sipped his energon; He wasn't listening to their conversation, although it appeared to be a funny one.

_*Jazz would be laughing...*_ he thought. _*What? Stop it, Prowl... You're just putting more pressure on yourself.*_

He could almost hear a voice in his helm replying. _*You need him.*_

_*No! No I don't!*_ he thought back, scowling and clenching at his energon cube.

_*Get him back.*_

_"NO! Primus... I'm going crazy!*_

His argument with himself was soon interrupted by Blaster. "Uhm... You alright there, Prowl?" he asked, making him look up and notice how both mechs were looking at him as if he wanted to throw them both through the wall.

"... Um, y-yes, Blaster... I'm fine..." he replied shakily.

But neither mech looked away. "Prowl... you looked like you thought your energon was a 'Con. Tell us what's up."

Prowl merely looked down at his Decepticon energon. He _did_ want Jazz back. _Slag_, he _needed_ the mech back. He didn't know how much longer he could stand being in this situation.

"It's nothing... I believe I'm just going a little crazy."

Beachcomber and Blaster let out quiet chuckles, looking at each other. "Well, that's alright, Prowl. Every mech goes crazy eventually," stated Beachcomber. Both knew he'd been released from duty for a few joors due to some apparent virus, and still had a few to go. They understood why Prowl would feel that way.

Prowl suddenly felt those cold optics again. They'd taken a break for a while, but now he felt like they were focused right on him. Like he was the only mech in the room.

They weren't threatening, but more like grieving. Full of sadness, maybe.

He finally couldn't take it anymore. He slowly glanced to his side, but kept his helm in place. No mech there. He turned his helm a little, glancing more to his right. Nope.

The only mechs he could see were Hoist and Grapple talking at another booth, Cliffjumper recharging with his face buried in his arms at another, Jazz sitting and talking to Warpath, occasionally looking over at him...

_*Oh Primus...*_ he thought, but got no reply from the "voice" in his helm. He shot his helm back around to face Beachcomber, and nearly jumped out of his frame as two of Blaster's cassettes ran by, shooting at each other.

"Hey!" called the boombox as Beachcomber was talking to him, making Prowl jump again. "You two settle down!"

Prowl was so nervous. _Jazz_ was here. Less than 20 feet away from him. He just hoped he didn't start sweating...

"Man, Prowl, you okay?" asked Blaster, giving the tactician another concerned look. "You're, sweating... What's up with you?"

_*...*_

Beachcomber was about to add something to Blaster's comment, but Prowl interrupted in a stutter. "Uhh-mmm... y-yes, I'm fine..." he managed, not being able to help his shaking as his stood up rather wobbly. The shivering from the virus certainly did not help at this moment. He staggered over to the energon dispenser, completely ignoring the one he already had and left back at the booth. He just needed to get away from that area.

But of course, he thought, the saboteur made his way over to his trembling ex-lover.

Prowl's servos started shaking even harder as Jazz approached the energon dispenser. _*Slag... Why the slag am I so slaggin' shaky?*_

Prowl didn't look up. He glared at the trigger on the energon dispenser, almost forgetting how to use the thing. _*What's wrong with you! LEAVE!*_

_*No. Stay.*_ said the "voice" again, calmly. _*Frag...*_ Prowl thought himself. _*I wish YOU would leave... stupid processor... making me go crazy.*_

"Ahem," coughed Jazz, crossing his arms and staring at Prowl. "Are ya gonna stand there and stare at the knob or use the thing?"

Prowl looked up, startled at Jazz's sudden voice. The voice he hadn't heard since the break-up... The voice who always made his internals flutter with energy... The voice whose last words were similar to "I never want anything to do with you, ever again"... The voice that now spoke up again in frustration.

"Prowl." he snapped, making Prowl flinch. The tactician just stared at Jazz... he missed him so much. Why were they in this situation? Oh yeah, because Cryn's took over his processor, and Jazz, who just so happened to have the same problem, was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

But he didn't move. His frantic processor declared this was the only way he would get Jazz to talk to him. By making him angry. Perfect.

"Jazz..." his vocalizer eventually formed in static. "Please, listen to me..."

Jazz scoffed. "Listen to what, Prowl? Your explanation to something you can't explain?"

"My explanation to what you saw."

"Mhm..." he replied, walking over to where Prowl was standing in a dominant manner to get the mech to move, placing the empty cube under the spout and pulling the trigger.

After an astrosecond of awkward silence, Prowl answered. "Jazz... you had Cryn's. Remember? I brought you into med bay?"

"Yeah, 'course I remember. It was _after_ I told you NOT to!"

"You passed out cold!" he yelled back, causing a few mechs to turn and look, but turn back.

Jazz sipped his energon cube and slowly started walking away in silence. But Prowl just followed, like a sparkling would their creators. He continued explaining; Even if he didn't get very far, he'd at least be trying.

"Please, _listen_ to me..." he said, placing a servo on Jazz's shoulder, only to have the saboteur jerk it away. He stopped walking, watching Jazz walk away. He then just finally let his instincts take over. He ran up to Jazz and repeated the action, only this time applying force and making Jazz turn around to face him. "_Listen!_" he shouted, making mechs turn to look again.

"I don't _need_ to listen!" he shouted back in Prowl's face. "I saw what I saw, Prowl!"

"Just give me a chance! You don't know what really happened!"

"Oh, I don't?" his vocals pitched louder, and soon about every mech was watching them. "I didn't see your lips sucking Perce's... Oookay. I understand now."

By this point Prowl was angry. He was angry Jazz was acting so stubborn. He kept telling himself it was just the disease fragging up his processor, like Perceptor told him. That's all. Just keep trying. Prowl suddenly realized, though, that all optics were on him. On them. Watching their movements, actions... hearing every word... He ignored them. Jazz was more important.

"Yes, Jazz. You did see that. But you won't fraggin' listen to me about it!"

Jazz scoffed again and turned around to walk out the rec room doors.

"STOP, Jazz!" he yelled, but it didn't work. _*Think, you glitch! He's getting away!*_ Prowl started sweating again... what could he say? Admit the truth to Jazz, but also the entire crew? Yes, he thought... Jazz is who I care about... Do it...

"I had Cryn's, too!" he shouted as loud as he could, not caring about the others. This did make Jazz stop, and the mech turned coolly around, a good 6 feet in between them.

Jazz nearly dropped his energon, but clenched it with a now-shaking servo. He could see Jazz's visor fill with grief and mortification. He knew that Jazz knew that he had infected him, and now that he knew the truth, it was mainly his fault.

This is why he didn't want to tell him... he _cared_ about him. As much as he was angry with him right now, the last thing he wanted to do was add to Jazz's pain, physically _and_ emotionally.

Both mechs could hear whispers floating around the room, but Jazz didn't take his optics off him. He walked over to Prowl, frowning. "Why, Prowl?" he nearly whispered.

"Why what?"

"Why are you trying so hard? Trying to make me believe you... Why do you care so much?"

Prowl's jaw dropped slightly. Unbelievable. He just risked being gossiped about till the next millennium, and Jazz didn't even believe him. He just prayed that his processor wasn't as bad off as to completely block things out like this...

"What...? You... You don't even _believe_ me?"

Jazz laughed. He knew it wasn't true. Just hogwash, as the humans said. But he couldn't help but ask again.

"Why do you care so much, Prowl? We're done. Game over. You betrayed me. I don't want you back. Why do you want me back?"

Prowl was truly dumbfounded. Was this really happening? _*SAY something!*_

Prowl stuttered as he watched Jazz walk out the rec room doors. He swore he'd never had as much struggle coming up with his reply before in his lifestream.

"Be - Because... I love you, Jazz!" he called out. Every mech was still watching them, but their whispers ceased. The room filled with dead silence.

Jazz stopped in his tracks. He stood there, halfway out in the hall and halfway in the rec room. The sound of the cube hitting the floor and energon spilling everywhere was the _only_ sound heard. No one dared say a thing; The air was so thick Optimus could swipe it twice with his axe.

Jazz was shocked... even more so than when he saw Prowl kissing the microscope. Those words... those three simple words... they seemed to shoot a hole straight through Jazz's processor, unblocking his thoughts about Prowl. Letting him understand, finally. He understood... The disease... Cybertron... the mission... the air ducts covered in that slimy, blue goo... how he was so cold and in pain... how Prowl held his servo many, many times in med bay... how Prowl was standing merely 8 feet behind him, desperate to get him to understand.

Jazz turned around, as if in slow-motion. He was completely oblivious to the mechs in the room, or the spilled energon he was standing in. It was like he was free from being trapped by that horrid disease overpowering his processor... He _understood_.

His slightly-agape jaw started to tremble. His servos clenched at his sides, and he closed his mouth and gulped. Prowl did almost the same; Neither could pay attention to the wide-opticed stares they were receiving. It was a klik or so before anyone spoke.

"No..." he whispered. "No, you can't..."

"Yes I can..." Prowl whispered back.

"No. I - You can't. Not after what I did..."

"You did nothing, Jazz. It was me," he replied, ignoring the few whispers scattering around. He walked towards Jazz, but the saboteur flinched away, holding up a servo.

Prowl grabbed it and intertwined his digits with his own. "Please, Jazz." He felt somewhat heated up, but his trying had worked. He didn't give a slag about the mechs staring at them. Jazz was his again... His spark was already throbbing.

After all his years with Jazz, he could tell easily that his spark was doing the same. Jazz looked up into Prowl's optics, directly in front and a little above him. He couldn't help but smile... How could he have been so stupid? So careless? So unaware?

His thoughts were interrupted by Prowl's lips meeting his, engulfing him in a wet, passionate kiss. His spark flared at the action; Neither had realized how much they both missed this. Each other's lips... Prowl's wet, passionate lips connecting with Jazz's soft, cool ones...

They offlined their optics and tilted their helms for better access. Oh, sweet Primus, they both thought. It felt amazing...

They broke the kiss when they heard several cheers and whoops from the crowd, still watching them, as they remembered. Well, this was... embarrassing...

The two cassettes from earlier ran up and smiled at them, Blaster coming up and slapping Prowl on the back.

"That was quite a show you two put on for us," he said, laughing. "But great ending."

Prowl smiled at him, but his optics were still fixed on Jazz's. Neither were expecting the cheers, let alone wanting them... it only added to their awkwardness. But Jazz really could care less, and Prowl was just happy Jazz was his again.

And his day got even better when Blaster offered to help picked up the broken cube and spilled energon on the floor.


	11. Chapter 11: Twisted Limbs

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings: **ProwlxJazz, RatchetxPerceptor

Alright homies. PxJ are back! I know you're thrilled (take that sarcastically if you like)... these are the things that make dorks like us excited. I'm proud.

There's also a short twist... Alright, I'll stop giving hints and whatnot so y'all can actually reeeead.

eNjOy!

* * *

><p>[May 7th - 8:21 PM]<p>

Prowl moaned as he hit the wall, Jazz pressing him into it.

He shot both servos up to cup Jazz's helm as the saboteur continued his frantic kissing, lips engulfing the tactician's face like it was made of energon.

Prowl was kissing back, both mechs pulling away and diving back in, moans and suction noises filling the silence save for the clanging of metal against the wall. He slid one servo down the side of Jazz's frame and found wires to dig his servo into, making him moan into his mouth. Jazz immediately shot a servo around to play with Prowl's doorwing, something the tactician hadn't felt in over a month.

Prowl started to push the saboteur away, stumbling both towards their berth while still frantically slobbering all over each other. Jazz, stumbling backwards, hit the edge of the berth, and both fell on top of it. He pushed Jazz down on his back, lips not pulling away from Jazz's for more than half an microsecond.

He groaned as Jazz found his hotspot in his back, gently pulling and playing with the wires under his doorwings with both servos now.

He still couldn't quite remember how they ended up in their quarters, making out and molesting each other, which were located far from the rec room. All he did remember was the fight in the rec room, how it was resolved, and how they sat alone at a booth until nightfall... talking, explaining to each other what happened to the other, the mission on Cybertron, Prowl's sliver, etc.

Prowl bucked into Jazz as he suddenly felt two digits hit his main sensor node in his left doorwing. Jazz smiled as Prowl pulled away and groaned, pressing harder with both servos into the door hinges. Prowl moaned louder, his internal temperature shooting up drastically at every touch.

He lowered his helm back down and kissed his lover, so passionate that it made him just want to love him all orn. To just cradle him... make up lost time. And this time, it _wasn't_ the disease talking.

His servos floated over seams in Jazz's frame, playing with multiple wires and making him moan again and again. Prowl smiled at his lover; He couldn't believe how much he missed this. After just a few joors... it was like he was torn apart, but put back together again in a fresh way. It felt so good... he wanted to overload. Right now. Passionate interfacing... not too rough, just, amazing...

He started to grind his closed panel against Jazz's, still kissing him. Jazz moved one servo to just grip onto Prowl's back while the other continued to play with his doorwing, both mechs shuddering at the wonderful sensation. Just the basic touch of their interfacing panels rubbing against each other sent millions of sensor waves through both mechs' frames.

Jazz started to quietly laugh as he began rocking slowly with Prowl's movements, optics offlined and giving his lover a big, wet kiss on the lips. Prowl smiled back, engine humming in satisfaction. _Primus_ it felt good... _so good_, he thought over and over again. So good...

And they hadn't even overloaded yet.

Oh, how it would be a hard one. Just the thought made Prowl's temperature spike again, and he could feel Jazz's frame heating up, his cheekplates flushing a tint of red.

"Open..." he finally spoke, whispering into Jazz's audio and licking it. Jazz smirked and clicked open his panel, spike emerging already fully pressurized. Prowl spread his own legs over Jazz's frame, reaching down a digit and stroking the rim of his valve.

"Ahhhh..." he groaned hoarsely, slightly bucking upwards. Prowl felt around the entrance, and finally pushed the digit in so he touched the platelets. He squeezed by them, making Jazz gasp as he slowly, almost agonizingly, entered the slick, tight valve, which clenched down around the invading digit.

Prowl didn't realize how much he longed for that tight, hot valve... He about overloaded just watching his lover squirm and feeling the valve clench around him like that. Once he was all the way in, he started thrusting, and added a second digit, making Jazz cry out at the intrusion.

He gripped around his back tighter, too hazed to play with the tactician's doorwings. He just enjoyed the feeling he'd longed to feel as much as Prowl. "Uhhhnnn..." he mumbled breathlessly, tossing his helm back as Prowl's thrusts went faster.

Prowl smiled as Jazz started to pant, arcing of the berth as he neared overload. The saboteur soon keened, bucking harshly into Prowl's servo and groaning aloud as he overloaded.

"Primus..." Jazz pitched. "Haven't felt that good in over an orn..." Prowl laughed, nuzzling his faceplate into Jazz's neck and kissing the cables.

"That was nothing..." he replied with a smirk, kissing up Jazz's jawline and eventually finding his lips. He felt his doorwings being played with again, which just added to his arousal. He rubbed the sensitive valve some more, earning a pleased yet surprised moan from the one beneath him.

Prowl positioned himself and aligned his spike with Jazz's valve, kissing him once more. He gently and slowly pierced the protective platelets with the tip of his spike, making Jazz slightly moan and grip his hip plating. Prowl eased his way forward, popping the tip through and eventually the whole spike. Jazz keened at the feeling of being stretched again by Prowl's rather large spike; the thought of overloading from it made him shiver and leak lubricants from his already slick valve.

Once he was all the way in, the tactician pulled out just enough to let the tip remain inside, then thrust back in. He repeated this action several times, all agonizingly slowly to build up both his and Jazz's heat and arousal. After he had Jazz whimpering in desperation, he picked up a nice, fast pace, supporting himself up on the berth and making Jazz grip his hip plating tighter.

Jazz hung on to Prowl as he rode his thick spike, wishing he would just overload already. He wanted to just overload to his lover all joor... Actually, he technically could, since both mechs were still released from duty for the next two joors.

"NNNnggg!" he pitched higher as he felt Prowl hit an internal sensor node repeatedly on the same spot, making him reach his climax sooner than usual. "Ah... Ah... P-Prowl... Oh..."

Both were panting, gasping as each other's sensor nodes were stimulated. "Primus, Jazz... y-you're so tight..." he let out in reply, one servo rubbing Jazz's horn on his helm, adding to the saboteur's pleasure. They were so close to overload; He picked up the pace, leaning down and licking the horn, making Jazz shriek as he toppled over the edge in overload.

Jazz bucked up into his lover, whimpering and gasping as he clawed at Prowl's sides. The feeling of lubricant gushing out of the whimpering lover made Prowl overload into him, transfluid shooting out at every hard thrust. He grunted out his overload, panting as it subsided and Jazz settled back down on the berth.

"_Primus_..." he panted, servos still tightly clutched on Prowl's hip plating. "That was amazin'..."

Prowl laughed, pulling away from Jazz's horn and kissing his lips. "Do me now..." he said.

Jazz smiled brightly up at the tactician. He'd been waiting for Prowl to ask him... Now he could finally please his lover and release the energy building inside him.

They shifted so Prowl took his place, leaning against the wall as Jazz straddled him from above. The saboteur planted a wet, passionate kiss on Prowl's lips, fingering his valve so that he could feel how Jazz felt when he was torturing him.

Prowl moaned into his mouth, servos reaching up to caress his helm and tilt his own to kiss him at a better angle. He shortly pulled away in a sharp gasp as he felt three digits thrust into his tight valve, making lubricant leak out all over his servo and the berth. He looked down; the sight of Jazz's digits pounding into his valve and all the lubricant seeping out, along with the _feeling_, nearly made him overload.

He started bucking into Jazz's digits, moaning louder again and again, though he made a whine in frustration as Jazz pulled them out. He clutched onto Jazz tighter, desperate to overload from those beautiful digits. Jazz just smirked... "You're fine, Prowler," he said. "I'm not through yet."

Prowler... that was the nickname he hated. And Jazz knew it... that's pretty much why he called him it. He eventually stopped acting annoyed whenever Jazz teased him with it, until now. Now he'd forgotten all about it... and hadn't realized how much he loved it. It brought back so many memories; It made him happy again.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when Jazz brought his spike to his valve entrance, making Prowl shudder. Jazz moaned as he pushed his spike through Prowl's slick valve opening, lubricant gushing forth once more.

Jazz, out of instinct, kissed Prowl's agape mouth, stiffling the sudden mewls as he thrusted harder and faster. He picked up a constant, fast pace, making Prowl rock with his movements and hiss at the pleasure.

"Oh...Oh... Jazz... please, ha-harder..." he gasped, vocalizer now filled with static. He threw his helm back and hit the wall, gasping harder at every thrust, desperate to overload. He wanted Jazz's transfluid so bad... He wanted to overload _now_.

Jazz started to sweat; he hadn't gone this hard for a while. But it was worth it; it felt amazing. He could feel the transfluid building up in the tip of his spike, anxious to spill out and shoot up Prowl's tight, clenching valve. He grunted as he neared his climax, listening to Prowl's beautiful mewls that escaped his vocalizer and the slight suction noises created from the excess lubricant.

"Oh Primus..." he keened, bucking into Prowl's valve and making him cry out. "Oh... Oh... Primus... nnnggg... PROWL!"

"Ah... Ahh... Jazz...I'm there..." both mechs cried out as they toppled over the edge in a hard overload simultaneously, shouting out each other's names over and over as overload flooded their circuits. Prowl bucked wildly up into Jazz's hips, whimpering and gasping like Jazz did, the saboteur doing the same.

When the long overload finally subsided, both mechs let out deep breaths of satisfaction. Jazz withdrew his spike from Prowl's still-clenching valve, making him shudder again. He caught himself right before he about collapsed on Prowl, the tactician laughing as Jazz smiled.

"Woooh... Sweet Primus, Prowl. Haven't overloaded like that in a while..."

"Same here, Jazz..." he replied, stroking Jazz's helm after he rested on the berth next to him. "Thank you, though..." he whispered.

"No problem," he whispered back.

He gave the tactician another warm kiss on the cheek plate before he sank down and offlined his optics. "Dunno 'bout you, but I need recharge."

"No, I was going to do the same."

Prowl laid down and wrapped an arm around Jazz's midriff, pulling him closer to him and offlining his own optics. Finally, he was able to recharge again in his own quarters with his lover in his arms.

* * *

><p>Perceptor stood alone in the med bay, the sound of his drill being the only noise. He finally finished reattaching the metal plates on Bumblebee's helm, clicking off the monitor to stabilize him during his operation. <em>*One less Autobot to fix<em>,* he thought, wheeling the portable berth with the unconscious minibot into the spare room which held the fixed mechs: Ironhide, Wheeljack, Bluestreak, and now Bumblebee.

Now all he had to do was wait. Wait for Ratchet to wake up. It'd been at least 10 cycles, he thought. He should wake up any klik now.

But to keep himself busy, he spent those 10 cycles working on other infected mechs. He managed to get through Bluestreak and Bumblebee; He didn't want to move Ratchet into the spare room because he wanted to keep him monitored. Not that he would have something happen to him if he _wasn't_ monitored... he just _needed_ the medic to pull through with no problems at all.

A slight moan from the main lobby made Perceptor jump. He quickly positioned Bumblebee next to Bluestreak and ran out of the spare room, over to Ratchet's monitor.

"Ratchet?" he asked, pressing buttons here and there, making sure Ratchet was okay. Relief flooded through his circuits as Ratchet sat up, grabbing his own helm and groaning once more. "Ratchet... are you alright?" he asked, anxious for him to answer.

"Uhnnn... yes... I think so," he muttered through clenched denta, optics offlined in pain. "_Primus_... What happened to me?"

Perceptor chuckled a little. "You managed to catch the disease yourself, old friend. You and Sunstreaker were locked in _my_ quarters for nearly two joors... But Prowl's sliver actually saved you."

"Saved me?" he asked as his optics onlined, cheek plates flushing a tint of pink at the thought of interfacing with Sunstreaker in Perceptor's quarters.

"Yes. When we calculated the time you two were offline, Hound, Prowl, and I entered and sprayed you two with the sliver's formula. Even thought it causes a great deal of pain, it was the only way I could rescue and fix you. We waited until you and the twins were out completely, and Optimus brought you all in."

"Both twins? Did you get hurt?"

"No, no... I think I'm fine. I may have a small case, but I'm still functional."

Ratchet still was concerned. He could definitely see the tint of purple in the scientist's optics. "Well, how long have I been infected?"

"Only a few joors, maybe two; I finished Wheeljack after you became infected, so I moved him and Ironhide to the back room. After I fixed you I worked on Bluestreak and Bumblebee while waiting for you to awaken from stasis, but the twins remain," he replied as he hooked a machine up to the medic and started typing away at the monitor's keyboard.

"Wow, you really outdid yourself, Perce," he said, looking at the monitor from where he sat on the berth. "I'm proud of you."

Perceptor slightly smiled but said nothing. Silence filled the room save for the humming of the machines and frantic typing. After a while Ratchet spoke up again.

"Are you sure you're alright? Have you even recharged since I was infected? Or even since the disease entered the Ark?"

"I'm fine, Ratchet. I had some energon earlier, and I used some of your formulated high grade to keep me awake for a while."

Ratchet scoffed. He really was surprised Perceptor of all mechs found, and _used_, his high grade formulated especially for him to keep him awake for joors at a time. His smile dropped, though, when he noticed Perceptor had stopped typing. He was just staring at the monitor... motionless.

"...Perce? You alright?" He was about to stand up, but the shot of pain in his processor prevented it. He looked up, a little startled, as Perceptor slowly turned around to face him.

"I-Is something wr - "

But Ratchet cut himself off as he noticed the deep purple optics looking back at him.

Little fear showed through his agape mouth; With all the years he'd been a medic, he learned how to not show any fear. But that didn't mean he couldn't fear on the inside... right now, he felt nothing but.

"...Perceptor..." he whispered, optics widening. He flinched as Perceptor inched towards him, reaching a servo out.

"It's alright, Ratchet," he said, as if Ratchet was a little sparkling who was scared of getting his first physical. "I won't hurt you."

But the medic could practically _hear_ the edge in his voice... something more _was_ wrong with him than just a small case like he thought. He quickly stood up, trying his best to ignore the pain erupting in his processor. He stumbled sideways away from the berth, just missing Perceptor's grab for him. He grabbed onto the edge of the berth, feeling his way around it while his optics were fixed on Perceptor's.

"Perce... stop. Think about what your doing."

"I won't hurt you," he repeated, smiling almost creepily.

Ratchet himself wasn't 100% cured yet, either; Perceptor doing whatever to him would not help either of their situations. He stumbled over a drill while walking backwards, but caught himself as he fell against another monitor. "Come on, Perceptor... You don't want to do this..."

"Oh, but I do... I need to."

"No you don't... You don't. It's the disease, Perce... the _disease_. It's taking control of you... you can overcome it. I know you can..." He started to flinch as he was practically pinned between the monitor and Perceptor walking towards him. If he ran to the left, Perceptor would grab him. If he ran to the right, he'd hit the wall. And Perceptor would still grab him. He just prayed that he wouldn't infect him again... The scientist worked too hard for this.

"Perceptor, please," he let out as Perceptor was merely inches from him and reaching out a servo. "Please... "

"Don't worry, Ratchet," he said again, smiling and reaching for Ratchet's arms, holding the weak medic against the monitor.

"Nnnhh... N-No!" he yelled, turning his helm to the side as Perceptor brought his faceplate centimeters from Ratchet's.

"Shhhh... you're okay." Ratchet couldn't resist looking into the optics merely micrometers from his. His voice was almost soothing... "Shhh," he repeated, rubbing his servos up and down Ratchet's upper arms which he had pinned.

Ratchet flinched again as Perceptor brushed his lips against his, murmuring more soothing sounds into his mouth. Primus, he actually wasn't that bad.

_*Oh, what are you thinking you glitch? Make him stop!*_

Ratchet struggled again in Perceptor's grip, only to have the scientist grip him tighter. "Shhh..." he whispered again, and soon his lips met Ratchet's.

The medic squirmed at first, making moans of protest. But Perceptor wouldn't budge. Ratchet soon found himself sinking into the microscope's touch... He was enjoying the kiss. He offlined his optics and relaxed into Perceptor's hold.

Perceptor tilted his helm to kiss him more passionately, Ratchet doing the same, deepening the kiss. He couldn't believe this was happening. Perceptor... kissing him... and doing a good job. Wow, he was weak, he thought.

Perceptor pulled away after a nanoklik or so, a look of worry on his faceplate. Ratchet onlined his optics and looked up at Perceptor, worried to see the normal shade of blue gazing at him.

After what seemed like forever of awkward silence, Perceptor let out a noise of shock and immediately let go of Ratchet's arms. His cheek plates blushed bright red, and he quickly turned his helm away, covering his optics.

Ratchet could almost feel the awkwardness flowing through Perceptor's circuits; He could just imagine how awful he felt right now. "Perceptor," he whispered, but the scientist turned his whole frame so he wouldn't have to look at him.

"Perceptor, it's alright. I understand," he whispered again, placing a servo on his friend's shoulder. "It was the disease..."

"I'm so sorry..." he interrupted, starting to walk away from the medic. Ratchet just slowly followed him, watching him. "I... am, so sorry..." he repeated in a low, pleading voice.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Perce."

Perceptor felt like punching the wall. Of course he had something to be sorry for. Multiple things. For not saving Ratchet before Ironhide overloaded... for not fixing _all_ the infected mechs _sooner_... for kissing Prowl, making him break up with Jazz... for kissing _Ratchet_... Dear Primus, he thought. _*What is wrong with me?*_

"Yes I do..." he eventually let out, stopping at the foot of Sunstreaker's berth and gripping the edge. "You wouldn't even be here if I'd just come for you sooner..."

"No, Perce. Without you, the whole Ark would be lost. Every mech would be infected, including me one way or another. And we'd just remain that way, if it wasn't for you."

Ratchet put his servo on the microscope's shoulder again and came around to look at Perceptor in the optics, a warm smile on his faceplate. Perceptor couldn't help but smile back; he missed his friend, even if it _was_ an awkward greeting.

"Thank you," he whispered, looking back at the berth. "No problem," he heard in reply. He then felt two warm arms wrap around his midriff, pulling him into a tight squeeze. Ratchet turned Perceptor so that he could do the same, hugging him, reassuring him that everything was alright. Perceptor hesitated at first, but soon wrapped his own arms around Ratchet's back and nestling his faceplate into the medic's neck. Ratchet smiled at the movement, and began to softly stroke his upper arm. "I missed ya, Perce," he whispered.

Perceptor let out a deep sigh. "I missed you too."


	12. Chapter 12: Attack of the CPU

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** HoundxMirage

This chapter's plot pretty much just popped into my brain... like, *poof*. Literally. Yup. Too much sugar makes me hyper and gets my imagination flowing.

So I hope you like it... it's a long weekend for me, so I'll have this one and maybe even one more published.

Yay!

so much sugar...

I also have a mech call another mech a certain nickname that he is referred to as by the public. Feel free to burst with whatever emotion you please if you figure it out, it really shouldn't be that hard.

* * *

><p>[May 7th - 10:33 PM]<p>

"Hound..." he managed, breathless from that last overload. "Please... l-let's take a *huff* break..."

Hound just nuzzled his faceplate into his lover's neck, making a whine of protest. Mirage technically couldn't stop him; the scout had his servos handcuffed behind him and hanging on a hook on the wall, his pedes pinned over the edge of the berth so the noble was basically helpless.

The two hadn't left their quarters since since 9:00 that morning when Mirage eventually made Hound and him leave for a while. He was so tired... 3 straight cycles of hardcore interfacing, but Hound just brought them back after a cycle or so. They just finished with their 9th overload for the joor, making it 14 cycles of interfacing with maybe two breaks total... Mirage was about to offline for a three joors. Ratchet even said that it wasn't good to exceed 5 overloads in a row. Whoops.

"Whyyy..." he eventually mumbled into Mirage's neck.

"Because, Hound... we've been going at it since 0600. My valve and spike are _burning_... and I'm about to go into stasis lock."

Hound huffed into Mirage's neck cables once again. "Fine..." he whispered, pulling away from the lover beneath him.

When Mirage looked up into Hound's optics, he saw the one thing he wished he wouldn't: Hound's optics shining that bright violet down on him.

He let out a deep sigh. He knew he was infected by now. He was practically at the scout's mercy; no doubt he'd soon act as kinky as him. He definitely didn't hate it, though. He hadn't seen Hound this kinky for decades. He was enjoying it more than anything, but the fear of being infected and making his body supply emergency lubricant was overwhelming him. Even though Hound had his artificial lube with him, he still felt, not right.

"I'm sorry, Hound..." he said, reaching up his servos to cup Hound's helm. "We just need to settle down... your infection is making you seduced. Your valve and spike are gonna be hurting tomorrow if we don't stop... You know Ratchet'll kill us both if he found out we overloaded almost 10 times."

"Yeah, I know," he laughed, leaning down to kiss his lips. "Besides, we gotta get up early in the morning," he said as he broke the kiss, then dove in again.

"True..." Mirage replied, breaking the other kiss. "So, how 'bout... we go get some energon."

"Mmmm... Alright."

When Hound stood up off the berth, he reached out a servo to help Mirage up. The noble followed him out the door, both walking rather uncomfortably with their pleasantly sore valves.

When they finally, slowly, reached the rec room, there were more mechs than they expected at this time of night.

Windcharger, Gears, and Huffer were all sitting at a booth, drinking high grade and playing some card game. Hoist and Grapple were arguing over a new invention one wanted to try. Blaster and Tracks were talking amongst themselves once again... it seemed they never had duty, and just spent their lives in the rec room. Of course that wasn't the case... Blaster mainly worked shifts in the monitors, Red Alert having to perfect everything and running the boombox off when he wasn't needed. Tracks wasn't that much of high rank, and just served local recon duty every couple cycles. Mainly he patrolled around the city, but usually cops would radio in and say he wasn't need, either.

As he followed his lover to the energon dispenser, Mirage continued looking around the room. Warpath was recharging at a booth while Beachcomber sat across from him, reading a datapad and casually sipping energon. He then saw one of Blaster's cassettes run by to the minibots' table, interested in their ridiculous card game.

Hound had to knock the energon cube against Mirage's arm to get his attention. Startled, he turned his helm and took the energon, looking down at it.

"You alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, fine... just a sore processor."

Hound chuckled softly to himself. "Wonder why..." he stated, filling his own cube.

Mirage smiled as he followed Hound to a booth, but found himself staring straight at Hound. Apparently they'd sat down already... What? he asked himself. How'd this happen? He swore he was loosing his processor.

What freaked him out even more was the sound of laughter, but Hound's face not laughing. It seemed to be coming from his left... He slowly turned his helm around, and nearly jumped when he saw Blaster looking back at him.

Blaster started to laugh, and the noble jumped again when he saw Tracks diagonal from him, also laughing. He turned back to Hound; all three mechs were looking at him and laughing.

"Wh-What's so funny?" he stuttered, looking pale. He started to sweat; _*What's wrong with me?*_ he continuously asked himself.

"You okay there, ol' money?" asked Blaster, but his voice sounded warped. Like he was talking in a low, slow-motion voice. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Mirage just stared back at them with wide, scared optics. _*What did he say?* _He quickly looked back down at his energon, trying desperately to process the warped voice that came from Blaster's vocals... but it was like he was speaking in a different language.

_*Oh, no,*_ he thought. _*Not this...*_ Mirage had always had a problem with cycling air. It was similar to a human's asthma, said Ratchet. Although Cybertronians typically didn't breathe Earth air, they cycled it to keep their energon flowing. But when Mirage was forming inside his creator, the chamber in his chassis to cycle the air and keep energon flowing was formed about a few inches off. So whenever Mirage experienced anything causing extreme anxiety, fear, etc., the energon would flow too fast and he wouldn't be able to maintain it all, thus causing pain and not being able to breathe.

Every mech knew about it. Almost everyone's seen him in the act; He also couldn't have joined the Autobots without a physical, and Ratchet almost wouldn't let him join because of his condition. But Prime passed him. He'll be a good mech, he said. He's a trooper.

But he sure didn't feel like one now. _*Primus... What...*_ He couldn't even finish his train of thought. He gasped a deep breath, desperate to not start a cycling attack. Hound swore under his breath, and all three stopped laughing. "'Raj? What's wrong?"

Mirage tried to shake his head in an effort of declaring he was alright, but he couldn't. And he wasn't. Everything started to blur out - Hound's voice was nothing more than a garbled, warped, low mumble. He could barely see the mech, let alone understand him.

He gripped the side of the table, and heard a loud crash and looked over to the window on the other side of the rec room, and silently screamed. He couldn't push his vocals to produce any sound. He looked down at his servos, covered with energon somehow, and another pair of servos grasping his, shaking them, shouting his name. But it was all a blur - He couldn't focus on anything.

A sharp buzzing drew his attention to the wall, watching an angry swarm of scraplets eat away at the metal exterior. He couldn't think anything; couldn't say anything. He wasn't even aware of the cycling attack overpowering his body, or the multiple mechs now gathered around him, shouting at him. He stood up and stumbled away, trying to push them away; All he wanted to do was escape them and the scraplets.

_*Get them off...*_ he thought, repeatedly, until his thoughts became words. "Get them off!" he yelled, making everyone stare at him. "Get - them off!"

"Get what off, Mirage?" called back Hound, standing up and grabbing for Mirage's arms, trying to calm him down. But the noble just thrashed around, tossing his arms to make Hound let him go. Another mech, or two, he couldn't tell who or how many, came up, but had to duck as Mirage finally freed himself and ran away from the scraplets.

"Get them off!" he screamed at Hound, pointing at the scraplet chewing on his lover's leg. "GET THEM OFF!"

Hound slowly looked down at his leg, at nothing on his leg. He and the other mechs cautiously approached Mirage, swatting at the air. Mirage was sweating; "GET THEM OFF!" he screamed again, desperately fighting the swarm of scraplets attacking his frame.

"Primus, Mirage!" he heard, and felt another three pairs of servos on him, holding him down.

"Someone call Perceptor," he heard in that faint, warped voice.

"The... THE SCRAPLETS, HOUND!" he shouted, gripping onto Hound so tight, gasping desperately to cycle air normally.

"Scraplets?" he asked, shifting so he had Mirage pinned between his legs. "'Raj, calm down, there's no scraplets!"

"GET THEM OFF!" he shouted again, pushing with all his strength on Hound's chassis to get him off. He could feel the scraplets chewing on his internal circuitry, making him scream again. He felt another mech help Hound hold him down, and started to buck in protest.

'NO!" he screamed as every mech in the room rushed over to help him. "THE SCRAPLETS!"

Mirage's optics started to tear up. "MAKE THEM STOP!"

"Mirage, please!" the scout shouted back. "Relax! No scraplets! There are no scraplets!"

Mirage started clicking, tears starting to stream down his cheek plating, whimpering aloud in desperation to make the scraplets stop eating him and the mechs to stop holding him down. All sounds ceased, though, when Mirage started gasping deeper, with more strain, bucking wildly in order to get everything to stop touching him. He vaguely noticed Hound slide off of him, as well as all other servos, except for one pair. A new pair.

A white face with a gray helm crest blurred into view, red servos stroking his helm. "You're alright," he heard, so faint to Mirage he basically just mouthed the words.

Ratchet ignored the surprised voices and looks from the surrounding mechs. He just focused on the squirming mech beneath him, literally gasping for his life.

Hound still held a firm grip on his arms, and Mirage's bucking soon relaxed under their touches. The scraplets seemed to disappear... the pain started to subside. He stopped shouting; The only sounds produced from anyone being the rasping gasps from Mirage, and the soothing noises from Ratchet.

"Shhh..." he whispered, looking down into Mirage's wide, fearful optics. "Shhh, you're okay, Mirage, calm down," he said, stroking his helm while Hound stroked his arm.

The bucking lessened to a few random twitches, but he clutched onto Ratchet's arm, still gasping for breath. He couldn't even speak; He wanted to breathe... that was the only thing he thought. He needed to breathe...

"Hey," he said, trying to get his attention. "Hey, 'Raj, listen to me," he said again, trying to get him to look up at him. "Listen to me, do what I do, okay?"

A few sharp gasps had him twitch out a nod, clenching one servo around Ratchet's arm and the other around Hound's servo.

"Take a deep breath," he said comfortingly, imitating a deep breath. Mirage choked out a few unstable breaths, until he managed one big, stable breath, not taking his optics off of Ratchet's.

"Now let it out..." he finished, breathing out for Mirage to copy. The noble exhaled deeply, clenching his servo around Hound's tighter. "There!" he said, smiling.

"That's right, 'Raj," said Hound, looking down into Mirage's optics and smiling brightly. "You got it, there you go..."

Mirage choked out a few more deep breaths, holding them in, then letting them out. "There," he heard from multiple mechs who were also smiling at him. Ratchet continued stroking his helm, smiling at him. "You're doing great, Mirage, just keep breathing..."

Mirage repeated the action several times, each getting better than the last. Hound leaned down to kiss the top of his helm, stroking his arm and holding his servo still. "That's it, Mirage. You're okay."

The noble looked away from Hound to glance at Ratchet again. "Breathe in," he told him. "You're doing great... just breathe..."

Mirage breathed in once again, this time almost normally. "And, breathe out," he heard, following the command.

He could hear the several faint cheers of happiness and relief floating through the room. Hound and Ratchet both smiled down at him, and he could barely feel the soothing servos still stroking his frame. _Finally_, he could cycle air normally... it felt so good.

"Do you feel alright?" he heard. The voice sounded, normal... not garbled, warped, in slow-motion... just, a normal voice.

He nodded, vision still a bit blurry. He felt a light pat on the side of his helm, and the voice continued, but not to him. "Help me get 'em back to med bay," he said, another answering.

"Alright, 'Raj. Ready?"

He nodded again, lightly, looking up at the voice's owner, his lover.

Hound wrapped an arm under Mirage's and helped him sit up, Blaster grabbing his servo to pull him up as Tracks grabbed him from behind to help him stand. Primus, he was weak... he felt like his pedes were made of jelly. Wobbling, Hound supported him as they walked at the door, following Ratchet to med bay.

* * *

><p>"That's it... slowly..." said Ratchet as Hound laid Mirage down on an empty berth. Perceptor typed away at the monitor as Ratchet shifted Mirage around on the berth, getting him comfortable since he was so weak right now.<p>

Hound was allowed to watch and support the noble if he remained silent. Alright, he agreed, he could do that.

Perceptor quickly brought Ratchet aside to speak with him. "Ratchet, let me do this."

"Perce - "

"You're not stable, Ratchet. You're not completely healed..."

"Neither are you, Perceptor."

Perceptor shut his mouth - he was right. Neither were technically fit to work, so neither backed down. "Alright," he eventually replied. "If you're sure..."

"I'm fine Perceptor." he assured him, lightly patting his arm as he walked back to Mirage.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hound.

"Well, there's really nothing I can do surgery-wise, but I _am_ going to prescribe an antidote."

"An antidote for what? He's not sick - "

"Actually, Hound, he is. In a way. The hallucinations were caused by the Drown Crystal formula, something I thought only Prowl had."

"Drown Crystals... isn't that what Prowl picked up from the Cybertron mission?"

"Yes. But Mirage was stationed outside as well, and I feared he more than likely picked up the crystals also."

"Great..." Hound muttered. "Well why didn't Prowl experience anything like this?"

"Well, everything affects everyone differently, Hound. And his cycling attack certainly didn't help; the unstabilized flow of energon interfered with his CPU, giving it spasms and electrical shock, making him see and feel things that weren't really there."

"Like the scraplets..."

"Scraplets?"

"Yeah, he kept screaming to get them off, and yelling at us to watch out for them."

"Hm..." he said, rubbing his chin and turning to Perceptor who just watched from the monitor, ready to assist Ratchet for the first time in joors. "Interesting..."

"Why's that?"

"Well... Mirage probably saw a few scraplets back on the mission, so when he was infected with the crystals, the images of the scraplets were the last things he saw, therefore the last things he remembered."

"... Like, Cryn's?"

"Exactly. Just like recent images of Perceptor or me, instead only recent images of whatever."

"Ah... I get it."

Mirage moaned slightly from the berth below the two, optics so dull he was nearly offline. Hound kept a firm hold on his servo, which was clenching around it so loosely it felt like a sparkling's. "You're okay, 'Raj," he assured him, smiling as Ratchet walked away.

"Hound..." he let out in a hoarse, whispering voice.

"It's alright, Mirage. You're alright..." he said soothingly, stroking his helm with his free servo. He leaned down and kissed his helm again, coaxing Mirage into a peaceful recharge. It didn't take long for Mirage to actually offline; all the overloads and the cycling attack made him pretty exhausted.

Ratchet walked back over with a green substance inside a glass bottle. "Now. This is the same thing I gave him eons ago, and it worked. I kept it ever since, preserved in the cooler, in case he needed it," he said as he handed the bottle over to Hound.

"Yeah, alright," he replied, examining the formula.

"Just swirl a forth of it in his energon each joor for four joors. And I'm 99% sure it will still work. If it doesn't, see me and I'll make something new. Alright?"

"Okay, Ratch. Thank you, for everything."

"It's what I'm here for," he said, smiling and waving it off as he turned back. "You can let him recharge in here for a while, I'll send him back when he's ready. This way I can keep an optic on him."

"Alright," he said, turning to walk out the doors. "Thanks again," he called, shutting the med bay doors behind him.

Even he himself had forgotten about the disease... and was thankful, too. He was in no mood to be operated on while Mirage was in this condition. He ignored the sudden desire for the medic. He just continued walking, not stopping until he reached his quarters, optics a dull indigo.


	13. Chapter 13: Secrets Revealed

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** RatchetxIronhide

FINALLY. I know the summary of this story mentioned the main pairing as Ratchet and Ironhide... and so sorry for disappointing y'all. BUT. Now you'll finally get to read about that pair... one o' mah faves x)

Constructive criticism welcome... any ideas, etc. you have about this pair, or any pair, for next chapter or something, feel free to message me.

And thanks again for reviews/faves/alerts! You guys are awesome. O_O

* * *

><p>[May 7th - 11:44 PM]<p>

Ratchet couldn't sleep that night.

He laid in his quarters, on his berth, staring up at the ceiling.

Prime said he didn't want Ratchet working on the 'Bots in the med bay until morning; he wanted him to recharge for a bit, considering he wasn't completely healed yet and hadn't recharged in over five joors. He also assigned Perceptor to his own quarters, and ordered no work to be done from either of the two until morning.

Which really wasn't a problem; Perceptor had the remaining mechs doped up on enough fluids to keep them offline for another two joors. Only the twins are left! they would tell their leader. But he didn't care. He just cared about his medic and scientist - he needed them to be healthy.

But how was a responsible medic supposed to just recharge peacefully, knowing there were infected, _un_healthy mechs of their own in just the next room? He wasn't. And Ratchet couldn't. He sat upright, leaning against the wall, now staring at the wall in front of him with wide-awake optics. He couldn't recharge - it was impossible. He _had_ to do something.

He slowly slung both pedes around so they dangled off the edge of the berth, and slid off. Standing up, he onlined his optics to a brighter extent, and walked out his quarter doors into the attached med bay.

There, 10 feet away from him, lay Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. He could vaguely remember interfacing with the yellow frontliner... He _did_ remember tears, though. _*Primus...*_ he thought,_ *what the slag did we do?*_

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when he heard a rustling from over in the corner. He couldn't see anything with the dull overhead lights, so he walked over to the main med bay doors and turned the knob, lighting up the room.

Perceptor jumped. "Oh! Ratchet!" he called, smiling nervously as he put a tool down.

"Perce?" he asked, rubbing his optic with one servo. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing... I'm sorry if I awakened you."

"No, you didn't, I just couldn't seem to recharge well."

Perceptor picked up the tool again. "Me neither," he eventually mumbled, so low Ratchet had to turn up his audio receptors. He walked over to the microscope, watching him.

"So, what are you doing?" he asked again, quieter.

"I was... trying to take apart this sliver."

"...Why?"

"Because from what I heard Hound say earlier, I really wanted to study it more. More than just a speck here and there... I mean, _really_ focus on it. I wanted to take it apart... experiment with it. Test theories on it. Learn more about it."

"I understand, Perce," Ratchet replied. "But Prime said no work until morning..."

"I know, Ratchet. I know. But I simply cannot recharge at all... not will all these mechs. _Please_ let me help you..."

Perceptor turned his helm to look at Ratchet with pleading optics. Ratchet didn't think he'd ever seen such an innocent, pleading look from the usually-straightforward scientist... It actually made him feel, bad, for him...

"...Well, I don't care, Perce..."

He sighed in happy relief at the words. "Thank you, Ratchet," he said, slightly smiling, turning back to the sliver.

"Just keep it down, alright? Mirage is still in stasis," he said, gesturing over to the recharging noble near the doorway.

"Yes, Ratchet. I will remain here, silent."

Ratchet smiled back at his friend, found his scalpel, and walked over to the head of Sunstreaker's berth to begin.

* * *

><p>[May 8th - 6:30 AM]<p>

Hound didn't stir a circuit as his quarter's doors slid open and Mirage walked in.

He hadn't realized it, but all those overloads had drained quite a bit of energy from him.

Mirage held his helm, slowly approaching their berth. He saw a tube of green glowing in the darkness, but paid it no mind. He sat down on the open end of the berth, pushing his whole self on top and wrapping an arm around Hound's midriff. He nestled his faceplate into his neck, making Hound subconsciously smile in his recharge state.

The noble once again fell into recharge quite easily. He was still so tired - even seven cycles of recharge in med bay didn't help much.

After a few kliks, Hound onlined his optics. The first thing he felt was the warm presence of his lover... how he was holding him right now. It felt so good, he thought. It was so relaxing. And the positive energy would help Mirage with his previous cycling attack as well.

"Mirage?" he whispered, but received no reply. He shifted over so he was facing the noble, resting a servo on Mirage's side and stroking it while he watched his offlined optics.

Then he remembered the antidote. Energon, he thought. He needed energon. He slowly freed himself from Mirage's cradle, lowering his lover's servo down so it didn't disturb him. He got up off the berth, silently walking towards the doors. He needed to get the energon now, he knew, even though 'Raj probably wouldn't wake up for a few good cycles. It was mainly so he didn't forget about it. He started his shift in a cycle; he needed to be awake and focused after a joor of relaxation. Optimus granted Mirage another joor off due to the cycling attack, but Hound wouldn't be there to take care of him. Only on off-shift.

When he entered the rec room, he was alone. No mech but him. He quickly filled up an energon cube for Mirage and one for himself, and swiftly walked back to their quarters. He dumped a fourth of the antidote into one of the cubes, swirling it around with his just-washed digit to blend it in. Of course it turned the purple energon a bit teal, but he knew Mirage knew that Ratchet had prescribed the medicine to him.

He set the teal energon down on a side table with a note: "Drink this, doctor's orders."

Sipping his own energon, he scanned over Mirage one last time to check his internal systems. All was good, he read. He leaned down to give him one last, light kiss on the cheek plating, and walked out the quarter doors.

* * *

><p>[May 8th - 9:35 AM]<p>

"Alright, Perceptor. That's it," Ratchet said as he walked out the spare room into the main med bay lobby. He had just rolled in Sideswipe, the last infected mech. Except for Perceptor, whom he would fix now.

"You're done with all of the mechs?" he asked for reassurance.

"Yep, now there's just you."

Perceptor nearly dropped his knife. "W-What?"

"You heard me, I'm not letting even the smallest case get away with not being fixed. Now hop on up here," he said, patting on a berth for the microscope to sit on.

Perceptor was somewhat scared; He'd only been operated on once in his grown-mech stage. Why was he so nervous? He was a medic's _assistant_ for Primus' sake... This should be nothing.

Ratchet just chuckled. "You're fine, Perce. Nothing compared to the others. It'll only take a few cycles total."

"What about Ironhide?" he stuttered as he staggered over to the berth on nervous, wobbly pedes. "He hasn't woken up from stasis for three joors..."

"No, he's awake..."

"... H-He is?"

"Yeah. Been awake for a good cycle now."

"..."

Ratchet just chuckled again. "C'mon, Perce. I said you'll take maybe half a cycle of surgery, then three cycles tops to online again."

Perceptor almost ran into the berth like he didn't see it there. Ratchet held onto his shoulder as he sat down and helped him lay down on his back, shifting him until he was comfortable.

"Better?"

Perceptor mumbled in agreement, gripping the sides of the berth loosely. Ratchet noticed his unease; "You alright?"

"Yeah..." he muttered in a low voice, looking down at his pedes. He jumped when he felt a cold servo rest on his chassis, and looked up at Ratchet as he grit his denta under his closed mouth.

"Perceptor, you're going to be just fine," he reassured him in a comforting tone. "Just relax, alright?"

The scientist nodded solemnly, slightly relaxing under Ratchet's touch. "Okay, here we go," he heard, and then everything flashed white, fading into black.

* * *

><p>"Hey, 'Hide."<p>

Ironhide looked over from the ceiling to glance at Ratchet. "You need something?"

"No, I'm fine," the warrior replied, voice a bit shaky from the chill.

Ironhide continued staring at the ceiling, and Ratchet walked over to him. Frag, he thought. Why couldn't he remember that much? He just barely remembered the kiss in the hallway... nothing more, of course save for the interfacing. Stupid disease, he thought.

He did feel something, though. Like the kiss was something more than just strange behavior from the warrior.

"Are you sure?"

Ironhide slowly focused his optics on the medic; _He_ certainly remembered the kiss, but vaguely the interfacing. Sure, the disease made him do it, but it was out of instinct. It was more than just strange behavior. He'd always liked Ratchet, and recently realized he liked him in that way.

"Yes, Ratchet..." he muttered. "I'm fine."

Ratchet wasn't convinced; he knew something was up. "Okay..." he eventually said after looking over Ironhide's frame for at least a klik. "Just, comm. me if you need anything, alright?"

Ironhide slightly nodded, fixing his optics on the ceiling once again. He wanted him so bad right now... to just kiss him. Hold him. Love him.

He turned his helm to watch Ratchet leave the spare room. He was so tempted to just get up off this stupid berth he'd been in stasis-lock on for the past three joors and wrap his arms around him, or at least walk around. But he knew Ratchet was have his tailpipe if he did such a thing. So he laid there... on the prison berth. Staring at the ceiling, thinking about the medic once again.

* * *

><p>Perceptor slowly, very slowly, onlined his optics.<p>

_*Primus... my helm...* _

"Hey, Perce," he heard somewhere behind him. "How are ya feeling?"

Perceptor struggled to sit up and lean against the wall, and felt Ratchet's extremely cold servos wrap around his waist to help him. The sudden coldness made him nearly purge his tanks... "Why are your servos so cold?" he asked as Ratchet propped him against the wall.

"I'm afraid that's just your circuitry, Perceptor. You'll be a little chilly for the next few joors, a little shaky, nothing much."

Perceptor just groaned. His processor hurt like the pit, he was freezing, and couldn't stop shaking. He wished he'd never let Ratchet operate on him. But then, he'd just be stuck with that fragging disease.

Frag my life, he thought.

He heard Ratchet laugh softly from off to his left. He onlined his optics and looked at him. "What?"

"Nothing, just watching you. You want some pain meds?"

"...Please..."

He heard Ratchet chuckle again as he walked off to his desk and pulled out a drawer. He didn't even hear him walk back over with a glass of energon and two blue pills.

Perceptor's shaking servo managed to grasp the glass and pop the pills in his mouth, swallowing them. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"No problem."

After a few kliks, Perceptor asked what he knew would be the answer: "So, when can I get off this berth, Ratchet?"

"In a few cycles. Just let me keep an optic on ya, monitor ya, you know. The basics."

"Hm... yes. Basics," he muttered to himself. Primus, he hated this.

Ratchet looked over at his friend rubbing his sore optics. "Tell ya what, old friend. In one cycle, if you're doing alright, I'll letcha go. Sound good?"

Perceptor smiled on the inside. "Yes, Ratchet. Thank you."

"But you have to cooperate. No hesitating on what I need to do. Got it?"

"Yes."

Ratchet walked back over to his desk and pulled out a datapad. Perceptor offlined his optics, listening to the Earth birds chirp softly outside the open med bay window.

Half a cycle passed like that. "Hey, I know what'll cheer you up," Ratchet called over from his desk.

"And what would that be..." he mumbled in reply, optics still offline.

"I found you're dysfunctional neurochip. I forgot to discard it... wanna see it?"

Perceptor onlined his optics and looked over at the medic like he was mad. "Do I want to see that nasty neurochip?"

"Yeah," he said, flipping it back and forth in his servos. "It's actually pretty neat... I may have to keep. As a souvenir."

Perceptor scoffed. "Souvenir. Right..."

"C'mon. You know you want to..." he teased.

"... Fine. I have nothing better to do."

Ratchet smiled as he walked over to the scientist, holding up the hot, black, shriveled-up neurochip between two digits. He placed it in Perceptor's trembling servo, and both mechs watched it let off steam at the cold touch.

"Ahh..." he stuttered, watching the neurochip. "This it absurd, Ratchet. Throw it away..." But he himself didn't take his wide optics off of it. It was indeed neat.

"Alright, fine," he replied, chucking lightly as his friend's reaction. He took the neurochip out of his servo and dropped in a metal tray for discard. "Now, just let me run a few more tests, and if everything's functioning properly, you're free to go."

Perceptor smiled at the thought of finally being able to escape this situation. Ratchet smirked back, holding up a machine to his chassis.

* * *

><p>"Ratchet?"<p>

Ratchet held up a digit and pressed it to his audio. "Yeah, 'Hide."

"...Can you come in here for a minute?"

"Sure thing, just let me get Perceptor standing."

Ironhide cut off the comm. link, and Ratchet wrapped his other servo around Perceptor's midriff as he helped him sit up. Perceptor hissed at the sudden pain in his processor, but ignored it as soon as Ratchet had him standing on his pedes.

"Are you sure you feel okay?" he asked, still holding him up.

"Y-Yes," he stuttered. The pain was pretty much gone, save for a few glitches here and there. He was just cold still, and continuously shaking, which annoyed the slag out of him.

"Okay..." he said, slowly letting go of Perceptor. The scientist caught himself on the side of the berth, and gradually let himself go, eventually maintaining his body weight so he could stand on his own.

"Looks good, Perce. I'm proud o' ya," he said, smiling at the microscope. "Now let me just check on Ironhide."

As he walked in to the spare room, Ratchet was surprised to see Ironhide sitting upright against the wall. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad..." he replied, looking at the medic. _*Not physically, anyway...*_

"That's good. What did you need?"

Ironhide hesitated at first... he just flickered his gaze down to the floor. Ratchet walked closer to him, smiling slightly in assurance. "Hmm?" he asked softly.

"I, um... I wanted to... apologize."

Ratchet's smiled dropped to a slight frown. He immediately remembered everything... the interfacing, Ironhide dragging him into the closet, throwing him on the ground,_ raping_ him, pounding him until he screamed... Bumblebee was there too. He remembered the minibot playing with his open spark...

Ironhide looked up after Ratchet didn't say anything. He noticed he was staring the unconscious Bumblebee across the room, a look of worry and pain glinting in his bright blue optics.

Ratchet subconsciously brought a servo up to where his chassis covered his spark. He reached up to grab his own neck, sorrowfully still looking over at Bee. "Ratch?" he heard, and brought his servo back down, looking back into Ironhide's optics.

But he still said nothing. He stood there, like a frightened sparkling, frowning at Ironhide.

"Ratchet... please, forgive me..." he finally said.

The CMO's fearful optics lessened, and seemed to relax at the words. "I do, 'Hide..." he eventually rasped.

Awkward silence filled the quiet room. Ironhide wanted so badly for Ratchet to forgive him... it seemed like he didn't mean it.

Ratchet eventually couldn't stand the air being this thick, and started to turn and walk out. "Now, if that's all, I really - "

"No, Ratchet. Wait..."

The medic stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. "Yes?" he mumbled to himself.

He heard Ironhide actually stand up. He slid off the berth, and walked towards the now-shaking medic. Ratchet slowly turned to look at him. "You're not permitted to leave the berth..." he practically scowled.

Ironhide seemed to be deaf to his words, though. "Ratchet, _please_... I don't want us to just being dancing awkwardly around each other for the rest of our lives... _You_ know it was the disease."

"... I know."

"That incident in the hallway. Before this all started. That was the disease, too."

He sighed. "... I know, Ironhide," he replied, turning to helm to stare at the wall.

But Ironhide continued glaring into the medic's optics. "It was also me."

Ratchet just gulped. He didn't say anything. Just focused on the wall.

Ironhide placed his cold servos on both of Ratchet's arms, Ratchet looking back into the blue optics shining before him. "It was me," he repeated, softer, quieter.

"You?"

"It was because I wanted to. It wasn't _just_ the disease, Ratch."

Ratchet's optics grew wider. He didn't even think it was possible. "What?" he whispered, trying to process the words without tearing up in frustration.

"I... liked you, Ratch. I realized I always did, so I did something."

Ratchet's jaw went slightly agape. Was he hearing this right? Ratchet knew he'd always liked Ironhide, too. In that way, even. Of course he never told anyone about it, let alone _him_; he figured it was just a phase. His lips trembled ever so slightly, pleading optics now staring back into Ironhide's.

The red mech began to softly stroke Ratchet's upper arm with this thumb, a slight smile plastered on his face. "Ironhide," Ratchet rasped, placing a servo on the side of his helm. "I had no idea... Do... you really think that?"

"Yeah, Ratchet. Really... I wouldn't hurt you on purpose. You know that."

Ironhide's small smile grew wider, and he rested his forehelm against Ratchet's. "I'm so sorry for hurting you, Ratchet," he whispered.

Ratchet offlined his optics as Ironhide's face grew closer to his, until he felt the warm lips meet his own. Millions of sensors bursted through his frame at the contact. He slowly tilted his helm to kiss back more passionately, if that was even possible. He'd never been kissed so passionately before. It felt amazing...

Ironhide swiped his glossa over Ratchet's lips, the medic spreading them to allow it inside. He felt it feel around his denta, and he pushed his own forward to playing with Ironhide's, earning a soft chuckle from the warrior.

After a klik or so, they both pulled away, Ironhide gazing into Ratchet's optics while the medic's floated down to his chassis. He was smiling, though. Both could agree that was the most amazing kiss either had experienced.

Ratchet pushed himself into Ironhide's warm frame, said mech wrapping both arms around him in a comforting manner.

"Thank you..." the medic whispered into Ironhide's neck. Those two words were the only ones he could think of the say... he didn't _want_ to say anything else.

"Don't thank me, Ratch. It was the least I could do."


	14. Chapter 14: Medical Surprises

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** HoundxMirage, RatchetxIronhide

Sorry, I know the story's been kind of boring lately... like I said, you can message me ideas and whatnot. I'm almost done with it though. I'm already working on another story, too, so that might be why I've been a little slow with the publishings.

But this one's not _that_ bad. The end's okay. I'll let you see what you think.

* * *

><p>[May 8th - 4:02 PM]<p>

When he onlined, all he could feel was his aching processor.

And he was really cold.

And why couldn't he stop shaking? he asked himself.

Bumblebee slowly sat up on the berth, forcefully rubbing his digits over his closed optics. He onlined immediately when he heard a quiet groan from... somewhere... in the room.

_*Whoa...*_ he thought, vision so blurry it made him move his helm back and forth, side to side, to see who was moaning in pain. But, there were multiples... _*What... the slag?*_

He could just make out Bluestreak who was rubbing his own optics, being the closest mech to him, on his right. Across from him laid the twins... probably the ones who were moaning. Next to them was Wheeljack, still offline. Next to Wheeljack was... an empty berth.

He looked over to Bluestreak as the gunner painfully sat upright, gritting his denta at the shock. "Blue?" he asked, quietly, vision still hazed over like he'd been heavily drunk.

Actually, he had been. The meds he'd been doped up on were starting to wear off... on all the mechs, actually. Except for Wheeljack, obviously.

"Yeah, Bee?" he got in an raspy reply.

"Nothing... just making sure that was you..." He heard a faint giggle, no doubt from the meds making him dopey.

Bluestreak thumped his helm against the wall. "Ughhh... my, fraggin'... processor..."

Bumblebee felt the same way. The twins finally quit moaning, thank Primus, he thought, and were now sitting upright. Ratchet then walked in, reading a datapad, but looked up and nearly jumped out of his frame.

"Oh! Primus... slag, you guys weren't supposed to wake up for another joor," he exclaimed in shock.

"Sorry to disappoint..." chirped Sunstreaker, rubbing his sore optics with both servos. "But we're not too thrilled about it, either."

Ratchet set the datapad down and walked over to the twins, placing a servo on either of their chassis. "You don't feel warm," he muttered.

Sideswipe scoffed. "You got that right, doc. Try _freezing_."

Ratchet just looked them over. "I know, I know. I've got some specially-formatted energon for all of you."

He looked over Wheeljack as he left the room. Bluestreak offlined his optics; it seemed like forever until Ratchet eventually came back with the energon. When he did return, he handed each their own cube, filling Bumblebee's first since he was closest to the door, from a pitcher. Bluestreak held out his cube patiently, gulping down the energon as soon as Ratchet pulled the pitcher away. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe actually asked for more when they downed theirs, Ratchet snapping back at them to not drink it so fast if they didn't want more pain in their CPUs.

Ratchet nearly ran into Perceptor as he approached the doorway. He merely smiled at the mech, the scientist surprised to see every mech save for Wheeljack was already online. He quickly turned back around and followed Ratchet out the spare room's doors.

"Why didn't you tell me they were awake?"

"I didn't think you would care that much."

Perceptor shut his mouth. He really didn't care all that much, he just wanted to help Ratchet.

"Well... " he eventually made out.

"Perce, I know you're just worried about me," Ratchet interrupted, setting the energon down and turning to face him. "But I'm _fine_. I'm no worse than you are right now."

Perceptor huffed. Yes he is, he thought. Even though Ratchet was right.

Ratchet smiled at his assistant. "If you want to help me, you can go tell Red to keep an optic on Ironhide. I let him go - "

"You let him go?"

"Yes, he seemed to be functioning just fine. But I still want Blaster or Red Alert to monitor him for the next couple cycles. Alright?"

"...Yes, Ratchet," he mumbled, walking out the med bay doors to send the message to Red Alert.

* * *

><p>Mirage onlined by subconsciously taking a deep breath.<p>

He gasped, desperate to not start another cycling attack. He stared at the ceiling; _*I'm fine. Just breathe... Do what Ratchet said.*_

He laid there, in the silent, empty quarters, cycling air normally until he knew he was fine. He slid off the berth and staggered to the glowing green mass on the side table, ripping off the note and holding it up to his optics.

"Doctor's orders?" he mumbled to himself, curiously looking at the energon. _*Must be the antidote he prescribed...*_

He picked up the energon and walked out of their quarters, taking his sweet time as he stumbled towards the rec room. When he got there, he noticed Hound sitting alone at a booth, reading a datapad and sipping his own energon. He's probably off-shift, he assumed.

"Hound?" he asked softly as he approached the green jeep. He looked up, and smiled.

"'Raj!" he exclaimed as his lover sat down across from him. "How do you feel?"

"Okay... not as tired." Hound chuckled at him, casually sipping his energon.

"That's good, 'Raj. I missed ya."

The noble just smiled. "I missed you too. But... I think I'm gonna visit Ratchet in a few kliks."

"Why's that?"

"I actually think you should too..."

"Why?"

"Well... you're infected, Hound. And I'm 99% sure I am as well from yesterday..."

Hound's grin just grew wider. "Sure, 'Raj. I'll go with ya." Mirage thought it was a little strange that Hound wasn't protesting; Maybe he knew he was infected. That they were both infected. He didn't even notice Hound had stood up to return his energon cube and come back. He took the offered servo and stood up as well, following Hound out the rec room as he still sipped at his antidote-energon.

As they walked down the hall towards med bay, Hound reached a servo around to tickle the small of Mirage's backstrut. He slid it down to lightly stroke his aft, smiling as Mirage jumped at the touch. "Hound, stop," he giggled.

Hound leaned in to nip at his audio, swiping his glossa over the exterior, making it wet. "Mmmm..." he chuckled, loving licking his lover. When the last mech in the hallway passed them, he pushed Mirage against the wall playfully and kissed him on the lips.

"Hound..." he murmured, smiling, but trying to push him away. "Wait until you're done in med bay."

He scoffed. "Fine... But you owe me."

"Mhmm," he replied, kissing Hound one last time before he slid away.

Mirage opened the med bay door, startled to see Bumblebee run out. "Bee!" he heard Ratchet call, but Bumblebee was too far gone. "Ugh... Fine." He and Hound walked into the med bay, surprised to see Bluestreak and the twins in the same room and not fragging the scrap out of each other.

"Hey, Ratchet," the noble said.

"Hey fellas," he replied, smiling at them as he brought a machine away from Sideswipe's chassis. "Something bothering you?"

"Actually, yes... I fear we've both been infected, Ratchet... Um, we - _I_ - decided we should see you before we get any worse," answered Mirage.

"Hm..." he said, looking them over. "Good plan, you two... Just come on over here," he said, smiling and gesturing towards two empty berths while he turned to a monitor. "You three are free to go... take it easy for the joor, though. I don't want any complaining of sore frame parts from you all being idiots," he muttered to Bluestreak and the twins. Sunstreaker made a face, Bluestreak thanking him as Sideswipe took the caboose and they all left the med bay.

Mirage watched them leave, smiling at them. He then made his way to a berth, but noticed Hound wasn't following him; he turned around to grab his servo, but dropped it with a gasp.

Ratchet immediately turned around, gasping softly as well to see nearly-black optics dulling the room. "Hound..." he started, cautiously, carefully walking towards the smirking mech with his arms crossed over his chassis. He very slowly reached out a servo to pull the stasis wire on Hound's neck, but received a growl and jumped backwards in startlement.

Hound unfolded his arms and dove for the medic. Ratchet yelped as he jumped out of the way, catching himself on the counter top. Hound braced himself on his pedes, swishing his helm back to glare at Mirage and Ratchet. He smirked again, but this time he was angry. He would get the medic, he thought. Whether he wanted it or not.

Mirage ran in front of Ratchet right as Hound lunged for him, making the scout tackle him to the ground instead. "Nnngg... Hound!" he pitched, struggling to not let Hound offline him. But it was too late; Hound scowled as he yanked the stasis wire, sending Mirage into stasis-lock. He jumped to his pedes, Ratchet now inching his way towards him to secretly stasis-lock him as he had his back turned on the medic. "Big mistake..." he growled at him, lunging once again.

Hound laughed out loud hysterically as he had Ratchet struggling in his arms, loving how he screamed in protest as he licked the base of his jawline. "NO!" he heard repeatedly, followed by grunts and whimpers like he was being fragged to the pit. Primus, he felt like overloading right then and there.

His desire instantly turned to pain, however, when he felt a burning heat delve into the seems in his chassis, causing a pain so unbearable it made him stop everything and yell in frustration. He continued shrieking as the pain spread rapidly, still clutching onto Ratchet's arms tighter as he grit his denta, and eventually offlined, falling to the floor.

Ratchet continued panting; _*What... the slag?*_ he wondered, staring in disbelief at the unconscious mech at his pedes. The panting was the only sound in the room. He lessened his grip on the counter top, gulping and cycling another heave of air. He heard another's cycling, though, and flickered his gaze up to Mirage, but he laid there motionless as well. He turned his helm to his right, and noticed Perceptor standing in the med bay doorway, staring at Hound with wide, fearful optics, clutching a spray bottle with a blue-gray-glowing matter inside with both servos.

His panting finally returned to normal cycling of air as he stepped away from the counter top. He walked towards Perceptor, neither saying anything. He heard Perceptor's panting settle down, too, as he neared him, and the scientist eventually looked up from Hound at Ratchet.

"Is that the sliver's formula?" he asked him, almost whispering.

Perceptor nervously nodded his helm in response, lowering his arms and hanging onto the bottle with one servo.

"... Thank you..." he finished.

Perceptor smiled. "You're welcome," he replied, voice quiet and a bit shaky.

Ratchet turned to lift Hound up onto a berth, Perceptor lifting Mirage to do the same. Once again, Ratchet pulled out his scalpel and stood behind Hound's helm, peeling back the thin sheets of metal.

* * *

><p>[May 8th - 6:18 PM]<p>

The faint humming and beeping of monitors were the only sounds in the room.

Ratchet picked away at Mirage's processor peacefully, taking his time to make sure everything was being done correctly. He had just replaced the dead neurochip with the healthy, restored one, when he heard Hound online a few feet to his left.

"Hound," he smiled, still working on Mirage's CPU. "How are you feeling?"

"Mmmm... in pain..." he mumbled in reply. "Slag... What..." he started, gritting his denta as he forced himself to sit upright on the berth. He looked over at Mirage on the berth next to him, Ratchet delving a scalpel into his processor with one servo and a pair of pliers in the other. "What... happened?"

Ratchet couldn't help but chuckle lightly. "Well, for starters, you attacked a mech, offlined another mech, were sprayed with a tri-electrochemical formula, and are just now waking up from surgery in your now-not-infected CPU. Does that ring any bells?"

Hound blinked at the medic in shock. "A-Attacked? Who the _slag_ did I attack?"

"... Me." Ratchet didn't take his optics off of Mirage's glowing mass, but knew Hound was staring at him in disbelief.

Hound's jaw dropped even further. "What do you mean _you_?"

"I _mean_ you were infected with Cryn's. Both of you. Mirage came in with you and told me so I could fix you both before you got any worse, but it was too late for you."

He paused for a moment, waiting for Hound to reply while he continued focusing on Mirage.

"W-Well, who did I offline?"

"When Mirage tried to protect _me_ from you, you tackled him instead and offlined him."

Hound made a noise of horror at the thought of doing such a thing to his own lover. Was Ratchet serious? he wondered. He had to be... why would he lie about something like this? And how else would they be in med bay, being operated on? Why couldn't he remember anything? That's what made him really mad. He looked back at Ratchet as he heard him begin to speak again.

"Don't worry, Hound. Mirage understands. He might not even remember it either."

Silence.

"...Ratchet..."

"Hm?"

"...I'm so sorry... for attacking you... did - I do anything?"

"Nah, Hound. I'm fine. And I understand it was the disease, you technically couldn't help it. No big deal."

_*No big deal?* _he asked himself._ *This is totally a big deal.*_

"This is totally a big deal, Ratch!" he said aloud.

Ratchet brought away his scalpel and pliers and closed Mirage's open helm, and stood up, turning his back on the scout and walking towards the sink. "If you want to worry about something that you couldn't control, even after I said I was fine, go ahead. But trust me, Hound," he replied, facing the jeep as he dried off the tools. "I am fine. Primus... you and Perceptor both. Always worrying about the medic."

Hound showed a slight smile back at him. "Alright..." he said. "But sorry anyways. Now can I get off this berth?"

Ratchet laughed. "Wait until Mirage wakes up so I can check you both, then you can go. Unless you wanna wait for him."

Hound sighed. He didn't mind waiting for his lover. It was the least for do for, supposedly, offlining him. The two didn't have to wait long though; after not even 20 kliks the noble onlined, shooting his frame up so he sat upright and gasping aloud desperately in shock. Hound jumped, suddenly looking over to the Ligier, attempting to stand up off the berth.

Ratchet ran over to him, grabbing his trembling upper arms to calm him down. "You're fine, Mirage, you're okay," he said to him, looking at him in the optics. "Just breathe... you're in med bay. You're fine, alright?"

Mirage continued inhaling air deeply to cycle it normally. He clenched Ratchet's wrists with his servos, looking him back in the optics. He nodded slightly, but enough for the medic to know he'd be okay. Hound managed to stand up and walk over to him, wrapping a servo around his shoulder and sitting down on the edge of the berth to hold him.

Ratchet sighed, slowly letting go of Mirage's arms and returning to the counter as Hound shifted so he was resting completely on Mirage's berth, arms wrapped around his shivering frame and servos stroking his side. "Shhh..." he comforted him, resting his helm against Mirage's and kissing it lightly to calm him down. "Shhhhh... you're okay, 'Raj," he whispered repeatedly. "Just breathe in."

Mirage was, for the most part, cycling air normally now. Primus, he thought. Almost three cycling attacks in not even two joors... this isn't good, he knew. He offlined his optics and sank into Hound's embrace, relaxing and ignoring the pain in his helm.

Hound nipped at his helm again, stroking his side softly and continuously. "Are you alright?" he asked, whispering.

Mirage sighed and onlined his optics. "Yes, I think so."

Silence overcame the room again for a few kliks.

"I'm sorry I offlined you..." he whispered, making Mirage smirk and turn to look at him.

"It's fine, Hound. I know it wasn't your fault."

Hound merely smiled back, optics fixed on the wall in front of them. Ratchet then came back over with a scanning device, and silently scanned Mirage's internals for a system check. "Looks good," he said as he turned off the machine. "Do you two want some energon?" He started to walk off as he continued speaking. "It's specially formatted for side effects like your sore processor and chills."

"Yes!" Mirage exclaimed without much thinking, making both Hound and Ratchet chuckle at him.

"Alright, alright, hold on."

He came back with the pitcher and two cubes, filling them and walking back as the two mechs sipped their energon. "Wait," said Ratchet, walking back over to Mirage and holding up a green tube. "Did you mix this into his energon yet today?" he asked Hound.

Hound nodded and took another sip. "One-fourth, Ratch."

"Alright," he muttered. "You two are free to go whenever you feel like. I'll debrief Prime for you, Hound, so you don't get yelled at for 'ditching' your post, and I'll assign you off for the rest of the joor."

"Oh, thank you."

"Mirage, I'd permit you able to work shifts tomorrow, but light ones. Monitoring would be best, yes?"

"Yes, Ratchet. That's fine."

Hound stood up and helped Mirage on his pedes, handing him his energon as he sipped at his own. "You okay?" he asked him, receiving a smiling nod. "Thanks again, Ratchet," he called back as they exited the med bay doors, Ratchet waving at them and typing away at his main computer screen.

* * *

><p>[May 8th - 11:12 PM]<p>

"Ratchet."

Ratchet looked up from his datapad at Ironhide whom walked towards him, and immediately smiled.

"What are you doing?"

"Finishing this last datapad. Why?"

"Well, it's a little late, don't you think?"

"Yes, I know... I'll recharge in a minute."

Ironhide didn't say anything else. He watched Ratchet read the rest of his datapad and sat down in the chair across from him on the other side of the desk. Ever since the kiss earlier that morning, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the medic.

And neither could Ratchet do the same about Ironhide.

Ratchet looked up again. "What?" he giggled.

"Nothin'," he answered, giving the medic a kinky smirk. "Just waiting for you."

"Waiting for me, hm?" he asked playfully as he turned back to his datapad. "And just what exactly are you going to do when I'm done?"

"Oh, I don't know... _things_..."

Ratchet smirked back at the mech and stored the datapad in a drawer. "I can always finish it in the morning."

He stood up as Ironhide did the same, still keeping his smirk as he passed the warrior, looking at him, and walked into his quarters, Ironhide staying where he was for the moment.

Ratchet stepped into his quarters, standing at the side of his berth. He then heard the light pedesteps of Ironhide follow him, and the shut and lock of the doors behind them.

He heard them stop, and then continue walking towards him from behind. He didn't say anything; he stood there, facing the wall, Ironhide now standing behind him. He knew he was there... Ironhide knew he knew he was there. But silence filled the thick air.

"Did you mean that kiss... Ironhide?" he asked, so low it was like a whisper.

The red mech remained silent for a moment. It almost made Ratchet worried... what if he _didn't_ mean it? He could almost feel Ironhide's warm breath from the kiss, breathing down his backstrut... the servos just barely touching his sides...

But he didn't move.

"Of course I did."

The words nearly made the medic jump. He turned around to face him; "You did...?"

He saw the slight smirk in the dark room, bright blue optics shining down on him. "Yeah..." he whispered.

"Why? What's wrong?" he spoke again after Ratchet was silent once more.

"Nothing..." he responded. He turned back around to face his berth, but Ironhide stopped him by placing a servo on his shoulder and turning him back to him. Ratchet's optics were suddenly offline, Ironhide's lips absorbing his in a passionate kiss as he held on to the medic's collar ridge. Both mechs tilted their helms to deepen the wonderful kiss.

Ratchet found himself trickling his servo up Ironhide's chassis while the other reached around to grasp the back of the warrior's helm, showing him how much he loved this. Ironhide wrapped both servos around Ratchet's waist, pulling away and diving back in as he tilted his helm further. Ratchet truly did love this... he'd never experienced a kiss as wonderful as the one earlier that morning, until now. Now he felt so right, seduced... he wanted the mech. He loved him...

The back of Ratchet's helm suddenly hit the wall, Ironhide still passionately kissing him and tickling wires in seems. Ratchet smirked at the sensation, and swiped his glossa over Ironhide's denta, making the warrior copy and lick the medic's soft lips. He then pulled away when he felt two servos tangle with wires in his thighs, stimulating heat throughout his entire frame.

Ratchet found himself stroking Ironhide's hip plating rather kinkily, and was surprised when he heard the interfacing panel snap open. Ironhide just chuckled at his reaction, and made the medic shriek as he too clicked open the CMO's panel.

Ironhide grabbed his shoulders and whipped him around, pushing him onto the berth and jumping on it himself. He claimed his lips once again, pulling away as Ratchet clenched both servos around the base of his neck. The weapons specialist teased him, making him writhe and mewl as he stroked the rim of his valve and pushed two fairly-large digits in, and began to thrust.

Ratchet immediately started to buck, rocking with Ironhide's thrusts which began to grow faster. He had the medic panting, looking up into his optics with such lust and desire for the warrior.

"You want to overload so badly, don't you?" he asked, smirking almost evilly at Ratchet. The medic simply smiled back, nodding, optics hazed over from the vicious thrusting.

"But..." he panted. "I want to in a different way..."

Ironhide was somewhat confused by the words, but was startled when Ratchet pushed him with just enough force to get him off and flip one another, pinning Ironhide down on the berth. The warrior was surprised; he didn't think the medic was that strong, let alone when he's just getting weaker from reaching his climax.

Ratchet leaned down to nip at his neck cables as he grabbed Ironhide's spike and aligned it with his valve. Ironhide gasped out a laugh, grabbing onto Ratchet's hip plating as the medic slowly lowered himself down on Ironhide's large, erect spike, groaning as the tip pushed through the platelets. Ironhide moaned as he felt the incredibly tight valve encase nearly the whole shaft, heat building up at the pleasure and the sound of Ratchet whimpering as he started to bounce up and down, riding the spike.

"Primus..." he gasped, clutching the hip plating tighter as Ratchet's valve started to clench wildly around his spike. With that, he knew if he wanted to please Ratchet, he'd have to help with the overload, so he started to gently thrust into the valve.

"Ughh..." Ratchet groaned at the sudden hardness thrusting faster into his slick port. "Uh... Ahh... 'Hide... Oh..."

He was so close; he brought his tossed-back helm down to look into Ironhide's optics, gasping at every thrust. Ironhide was so desperate to overload... his spike was painfully erect, and he started thrusting harder and faster with Ratchet's encouragements.

"Come o-on, Ironhide..." he panted, gasping louder. "I- I know you can do... better than that..."

Ironhide grunted in response, bucking into the wildly-clenching valve, transfluid building up and ready to burst into that hot, wet hole... He suddenly heard Ratchet keen, valve flexing its hardest as he overloaded, tossing his helm back and moaning it out. Ironhide, now as desperate as ever, thrusted even harder, making Ratchet cry out at every pound, which just added to his arousal. "I..." he started. "...I - Oh, Primus!"

Ironhide keened as he overloaded, _hard_, transfluid shooting from the throbbing spike deep into Ratchet's valve. Ratchet cried out once more, riding the spike as long as he could, bouncing up and down to stimulate it more. Ironhide then felt another burst of fluid spurt up into the valve, making him gasp and keep thrusting.

Finally, the overload subsided, and the thrusts grew weaker as the clenching lessened. "Holy... slaggin', Primus..." Ratchet let out, still gripping onto Ironhide's shoulders pretty firmly.

The warrior just panted, slowly retracting his spike and making Ratchet mewl shortly but sharply again. Ratchet onlined his optics and looked down into Ironhide's, still not being able to wrap around his processor that he had just overloaded the hardest he ever had in his lifestream with _Ironhide_.

But by Primus it felt good...

Ratchet lifted himself up off of Ironhide and basically fell on the berth next to him, offlining his optics. "Thank you..." he whispered. "That... was amazing..."

Ironhide smiled. "My pleasure, Ratch." He shifted around so he could wrap a servo around Ratchet's frame, and both mechs, as exhausted as they both were, drifted off into a quite-peaceful recharge together.


	15. Chapter 15: Apologies

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** RatchetxIronhide, HoundxMirage, (small ProwlxJazz / BlasterxTracks)

SO MANY APOLOGIES

This, and maybe the next one, is probably the gushiest chapter(s) yet. Ehmhmhm. I'm so mushy.

* * *

><p>[May 9th - 5:20 AM]<p>

Mirage slowly onlined his optics.

He wearily turned his helm to look at Hound's faceplate, the scout obviously still in recharge.

But the very last thing the noble wanted to do right now was get up... he was so comfortable on the berth, wrapped in Hound's warm, loving embrace. The scout's faceplate resting just centimeters from his, and Mirage could almost hint a small smile on his lips. Those soft, passionate lips, he thought over, and snuggled up closer to his lover, offlining his optics.

...

Several cycles later, Hound onlined, looking down somewhat at Mirage snuggled up into him, servo resting on his chassis with a slight smile on his faceplate. Hound couldn't help but smile back. He lightly kissed the top of his helm so not to wake him, and laid his helm back down so it rested on top of Mirage's just barely.

Mirage onlined at the movement, moving his helm and looking up into Hound's optics, the scout smiling at him. "How do you feel?" he asked in a low whisper.

"Fine," he responded. "You?"

"I'm good."

Mirage smiled and wiggled his helm into Hound's neck, nipping lightly at his neck cables. "What time is it...?" he muttered.

Hound checked his internal scanner to see the time, his smile dropping intensely. "Oh... hmm... I think we might be a tad late, 'Raj..."

Mirage shot up. "What? What time is it?" He knew he started his shift at 0700 with Hound off-base and were to meet with Jazz before then, and since it was his first joor back, being late would _not_ look good.

"...1100..."

Mirage guffawed, rubbing his optics with his digits.

Hound sat up and stroked Mirage's upper arm. "It'll be alright, 'Raj. They'll understand...You're supposed to to just be monitoring anyway."

"It doesn't matter... we were permitted to work shifts, so we're expected to. No buts. And I feel fine; I can handle off-base."

Hound sighed. He knew he was right. He stood up and got Mirage on his pedes. "Well you're going to drink some energon first. I don't care what they say."

Mirage started to protest, but Hound was already practically dragging him out the door.

He pulled the stubborn noble all the way to the rec room, ignoring the strange looks from mechs. He finally managed to get him to stay at the energon dispenser, and pulled out the green vile and mixed one-fourth of it into his cube. Mirage watched in silence as it was stirred with a narrow metal beam, almost not wanting to even drink it as Hound pushed it towards him.

"C'mon, 'Raj. Drink it... or else you'll keep having those cycling attacks."

He sighed aloud, grumpily sipping at it. "We're going to be late..." he mumbled.

"We're already late," he replied slyly.

Mirage huffed once again, following Hound out the rec room as he slurped at his antidote-energon.

* * *

><p>[May 9th - 11:23 AM]<p>

"Ah... Mirage! And Hound. 'Bout time you two cats showed up..."

Mirage stumbled towards the saboteur with Hound following him in case something happened due to the antidote. "Hey Jazz," he grumbled. "Were sorry... it's this new antidote Ratchet's making me take."

Jazz merely chuckled at the bleary-opticed noble as he turned to shoot another Decepti-cardboard who popped up from the ground. "It's fine. If you don't feel like working today, I can assign you off-shift, or at least for a while..."

Hound looked at Mirage, almost telepathically telling him that was his best choice. But Mirage just shook his helm at him. "No, I'm fine. I just need to get my energon flowing... that's all."

Jazz shot another Decepti-cardboard who jumped up behind him without looking. "Well, if you're sure... Why don't we start with a simple exercise routine?" he replied, walking towards him and holding out his servos in a defense maneuver. Mirage carefully set his energon down on the ground, Hound backing away to observe.

"Now, just hold up your servos like this, and come at me."

Mirage hesitated at first, somewhat listening to Jazz's instructions. He felt really loopy... was this a normal side effect? he wondered.

All of a sudden Mirage was flying through the air, pouncing Jazz like he really was a Decepticon. Jazz, caught off guard, braced himself against the noble as they both fell to the ground, rolling over each other, Mirage attempting to punch Jazz but intently missing.

"'R- 'Raj!" he shouted, straining to defend himself. He pushed Mirage off and pinned him down, only to have the noble push back, and they both flew back another 20 feet.

Hound merely observed; he couldn't tell if this was the routine, or if Mirage had finally snapped. He walked over to the two, still maintain a safe distance, then he too jumped on the tackling pile. He pushed Mirage off of Jazz, he himself now wrestling with the strange-acting mech.

Panting, Jazz stood up and gripped his shoulder in pain. He spit up energon on the ground as he choked, watching Hound stand up as Mirage did the same.

After a while, he spoke up. "What was that about, 'Raj?" he questioned sternly, his shoulder producing even more pain.

All three were panting, and Hound stepped back as he noticed the blue-gray mass seeping through Mirage's servo. "U-Um... Jazz, you may want to call for backup..." he said lowly.

Without question, Jazz summoned Prowl and Ratchet to the open field. Mirage, somewhat thankfully, passed out on his own, slumping to the ground almost in slow-motion.

* * *

><p>When Ratchet and Prowl finally arrived, the medic ran over and fell on his knees next to Mirage as Prowl ran over to Jazz. Jazz waved him off, telling him he was fine as they watched Ratchet work with Mirage's frame.<p>

Hound knelt down on Mirage's side opposite of Ratchet, picking up his energon-coated servo in his own and observing it. "It looks like the same stuff on Prowl's servo..." he said thoughtfully.

"Mm... Yes. I think it is..." Ratchet replied softly, examining his faceplate as he turned it from side to side.

After a moment, he cleared his vocals and continued. "Hound, have you noticed anything strange with Mirage lately?"

"Um... no, no I haven't..."

Ratchet looked back down at Mirage. "Alright..." he muttered eventually. "Let's get him back to med bay."

Prowl walked over and helped Hound carry Mirage back to the Ark as Ratchet walked aside Jazz, questioning him on his injury and whatnot.

When they arrived back in med bay, Ratchet thanked the two as they laid Mirage down on a berth. Both mechs stayed, however, since both their lovers were patents, Prowl sitting next to Jazz as the saboteur took a seat on another berth and winced at the sudden pain in his shoulder. Hound stood over Mirage as Ratchet stabilized him for the time being.

"Alright," they heard, Prowl and Jazz looking up as Ratchet neared them. "I've stabilized Mirage for the moment; now let me take a look at ya." He gently placed a servo on Jazz's shoulder, making him gasp in pain at the touch.

"Relax..." he said soothingly, Prowl rubbing a servo over Jazz's leg. He examined the blue substance, tracing a digit through the slime over delicate seem patterns. "Mirage must have picked up a sliver too..." he muttered, all three mechs looking over at him.

"So how did I get it? I was stationed _inside_ on that mission..."

"Well, when you told Mirage to come at you, he did so. The sliver probably affected his CPU and made him do things uncontrollably, and he must have had it wedged in an area in his arm or servo, like Prowl. When he tackled you, the matter probably seeped through when he cut you, correct?"

Jazz nodded with a bright visor. "Yeah, he managed to swipe me with the tip of his gun..."

Ratchet slowly turned and walked back towards Mirage and sighed. "Primus..." he murmured. "So many injuries... I swear, this has been the busiest week of my lifestream..." He picked up his scalpel and picked away at the exterior of Mirage's infected servo, searching for the sliver wedge.

"It might be microscopic..." he said, peering into his servo. "I might need Perceptor..." He put the tool down and walked over to the cabinets, the three mechs watching him. He came back to Jazz with a jar and a tool similar to a large paintbrush, unscrewing the lid and dipping the metal bristles into the goo. He pulled it out and brushed it lightly over Jazz's shoulder, making him hiss in pain and relief at the same time.

"Relax," he repeated. "This will just take the pain away; it adds a cooling adhesive to absorb the heat and relieves copious amounts of pain," he explained, pulling the brush away after a few more swipes. "I'm surprised, though... Prowl here didn't need the stuff till a few joors after it was discovered. Perce told me Ironhide had the same problem, but even he still hasn't said anything."

Jazz looked up at Ratchet as he walked back off and returned to Mirage. Studying the noble, he continued speaking to Jazz and Prowl. "There's nothing else I can really do, come back in the morning and I'll apply another coat. By then you should be fine."

Prowl smiled and nodded, Jazz standing up and Prowl following him out the med bay doors. When they were gone, Ratchet looked and spoke up to Hound. "Mind paging Perceptor for me?" he asked.

Hound shook his helm and pressed a digit to his audio receptor, paging the scientist once more for the medic.

* * *

><p>[May 9th - 1:15 PM]<p>

"Mmmm..." he murmured.

"'Mmmm' what?" asked Ratchet.

Perceptor transformed back into his mech mode after another klik. "I see the wedge," he said eventually.

"Great! Where?"

"Well... it's... in multiple places... It may require the entire servo to examine it precisely."

Ratchet slightly scoffed. "What do you mean _multiple places_? I'd have to completely detach his servo from his frame?"

"The sliver is broken into five nearly-microscopic pieces throughout the left end of the servo. And yes, that is the best option."

Ratchet offlined his optics and pressed a servo to them in annoyance. "Okay..." he eventually made out. "Alright, fine. But you're helping me."

"Of course, Ratchet." he heard

He onlined his optics. "Hound," he said, looking over at the scout.

"Yes?"

"I am going to have to ask you to leave... I'm sorry, but I need this area to be completely sterile. He shouldn't be long."

"It's alright, Ratchet. I'll go... good luck," he replied as he left the med bay with a last look at his lover.

Ratchet threw an optic shield at his friend, placing one on himself and grabbing his electric saw. "Are his pain receptors deactivated?"

"Yes, Ratchet."

"Good..." he whispered, firing up the blade and slowly starting the detaching of Mirage's servo as Perceptor stood to his right, ready to cover the bleeding hole as soon as Ratchet pulled the servo away.

"Thaaat's it..." he whispered nervously, watching Perceptor bolt the metal cover on. He placed the servo on a tray and began the sterilization process, making sure Mirage wouldn't online for quite a while. He sat on a stool behind the table with the servo, taking off the shield and adjusting his optics so he had a clear view of the microscopic pieces. He then picked up his scalpel and picked away at the first piece, praying that he wouldn't lose his patience at the annoying slivers and/or damage the servo.

* * *

><p>[May 9th - 3:25 PM]<p>

Bumblebee sat at alone at a booth, drinking cube after cube of energon. He kept thinking about all the mechs he fragged, all who fragged _him_, everything or anything he could remember.

He remembered Blaster for sure... he was trying his best to avoid the boombox. Maybe we'll both just forget about it, he'd think. He also remembered Ironhide fragging him in the warrior's quarters out of the blue. That was strange, he realized, but one of the most amazing overloads he'd ever experienced.

He of course remembered playing with Ratchet's spark, and how he writhed under his touches. He barely remembered Ironhide then, though; just the kinky image of Ratchet as he overloaded, his spark flaring and frame bucking.

He remembered his 6th cube of energon in his servo, and quickly chugged it. He dropped it on the table, so tired he just wanted to recharge right there in the booth. But his shift started in a cycle... slag, he thought. No way was he wanting to do a shift now...

He found himself glancing about the room, taking in the images of all the present mechs. But then he noticed Blaster walk in, and quickly turned his helm as if doing so wouldn't allow the boombox to see him.

What surprised him even more is when the same boombox came and actually sat across from him. At the same booth. And looked at him.

Bumblebee slowly flickered his gaze towards Blaster's, a look of guilt and panic on his faceplate. "W-What?" he asked, shakily.

"Nothin'..." he replied. "Just wonderin' how you've been."

Bee focused his entire gaze on Blaster now. "Really?" Blaster nodded. "Well... um, fine, I guess... Y-You're not, upset? Or anything?"

"Upset about what, Bee?"

The minibot was shocked. About what? Really? "Well, about, me... and you... in the rec room a few joors ago..." Blaster's funny look turned to one of a light bulb flicking on.

"Oh!" he said. "Yes! That... well... that was - I know that wasn't _you_, Bee. I mean, I knew _somethin'_ was up with ya. Figured Ratch would get ya straightened out."

Bumblebee smiled. "Yeah, he did... But, um, I'm really sorry anyways. I didn't... mean it..."

"I know," he chuckled. "It's fine." Just then one of his cassettes ran up and tugged on his arm. "What?" he whispered playfully, looking down at the cassette and over to where he was pointing. He saw Tracks over at another booth, talking with a few other mechs, motioning for Blaster to come over there. Blaster smiled, bring it down on the cassette as he smiled back and ran off.

"I'll catch ya later..." he whispered to Bumblebee, standing up and walking over to the chatting mechs with a kinky smile.

Well, he thought. That's one down... Now he just had to apologize to Ratchet, and Ironhide too even though the interface with him was brought on by the warrior himself. He jumped out of the booth and gathered up his empty cubes, disposing them at the sink and exiting the rec room.

* * *

><p>Bumblebee caught the faintest glimpse of Ironhide as he walked down the hall, heading to med bay after he couldn't fine the red mech. Ironhide stepped into med bay, and Bumblebee followed him shortly after.<p>

But he walked in on a rather big surprise.

He stopped in his tracks, jaw falling practically to the floor, staring bright-opticed as Ratchet's lips were entangled with Ironhide's. The two didn't even seem to notice the mini spy; they both were too caught up in the passionate kiss.

Bumblebee shut his jaw and somewhat regained his consciousness as he cleared his vocals, making the two lovers break their kiss and focus their attention on the Beetle. Ratchet's slight smile grew wider, stepping away from Ironhide as the warrior brushed the medic's lower back.

"Bee!" he chirped happily, which was odd for the usually-grumpy medic. "What can I do for you?"

"Well..." he started nervously. "I, um, was actually looking for I-Ironhide... But you too, so having you both... together... is great."

"Alright, what did you need _us_ for?" he smiled.

"I... um, just wanted to apologize..." he said almost in a low whisper. "About the... interfacing..."

Ratchet's smile dropped. "Oh," he said sadly, and looked down. Ironhide came over to him and rubbed a servo over his shoulder comfortingly, whispering something into the medic's audio.

"I really am sorry..." he whispered, trying not to make the situation anymore awkward. "Please, Ratchet, forgive me..."

Ratchet sighed as Ironhide pulled away. "No, Bee, I forgive you..." he said, not looking up. "I... know it was the disease." Deep down, Ratchet would probably never forget that constant fear through the whole interface of becoming pregnant... and the dreaded feeling of someone playing with his spark just for their own arousal. A spark was the most delicate thing in a Cybertronian's frame, and was meant for sparkmerging and pro-medics only, aside from keeping its host alive.

"I'm sorry for taking you, Bee," Ironhide spoke up, thinking while apologies were going around, he'd better have his turn. Besides, he meant it, and Bumblebee deserved it. Bumblebee took his gaze away from Ratchet to look at Ironhide, and smiled.

"That's alright, Ironhide. I honestly can't remember that much anyway, and I know you were just infected too now."

Ironhide smiled and looked at Ratchet, rubbing his back plating. Ratchet turned to look at Bumblebee, his grieving frown lessening into a slight smile. "Thank you," he said. "For apologizing. And understanding."

"You're welcome," he eventually whispered back. He turned to leave the med bay as he waved goodbye, Ironhide wrapping his servos around the medic's waist as soon as the minibot was gone. He pulled him into another warm kiss, Ratchet's pain draining away at the wonderful passion.

They pulled away after a few kliks, Ratchet looking up into Ironhide's smiling optics. "How much do you think he saw...?"

"Who? Bee? I dunno, I'm sure he doesn't care."

"I suppose..." he agreed, and wiggled his way out of Ironhide's embrace. "Let me finish Mirage's servo, since you came in right when I was about to get the last piece out; then I'll snuggle with ya. How's that sound?"

Ironhide smirked and looked over the stasis-locked noble laying on the berth behind him. "Alright..." he mumbled teasingly. "I leave you alone."

Ratchet chuckled back as Ironhide left the med bay, leaving Ratchet alone with new frustration at the servo and the quiet beeping of monitors surrounding the stasis-locked Mirage.

* * *

><p>A slight knock at the door made Prowl look up. "Come in," he said, watching to see if it was who he was excepting.<p>

As he hoped, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe walked in like nervous sparklings. "Take a seat," he said slyly with a smile, gesturing with both servos to the two chairs in front of his desk.

The twins sat down, not taking their optics off the tactician. They all sat in silence for at least three kliks, and Prowl eventually held up his datapad. The twins nervously watched his digit swipe over the screen, the light reflecting off his smirking faceplate.

"So," he finally broke the silence, making the twins nearly jump as they focused on the SIC. "This datapad is telling me some things I'm certain are unlawful... don't you think?"

Sunstreaker pressed his lips together firmly as Sideswipe flickered his gaze down to the desk. Both mechs knew what they had done... spread the disease through multiple mechs: Bumblebee, Bluestreak, Ratchet... no one else was as to blame as them, even if it really wasn't their fault. They escaped the brig... that was a no-no. Or they just plain ol' attacked innocent mechs.

Sideswipe looked up as Prowl began to speak again. "Now, I know the interfacing was not you're fault. I understand it was Cryn's. So does Ratchet, and the other mechs you took. But, don't you think they deserve an apology?"

"An apology?" chimed in Sunstreaker for his first words of the meeting, nearly flabbergasted by the words. "For what? Doing something we didn't mean to do?"

"That's exactly what for. Don't you think they feel used by you two? That's what an apology _is_, Sunstreaker. To make them feel secure again."

The yellow Lambo just huffed and slumped back in his seat, Sideswipe watching him, then looking at Prowl as Prowl glared back. "What about you?" asked the tactician.

Sideswipe nodded and looked at his brother. "I think they deserve it, Sunny," he almost whispered, clearly still anxious to escape this thick air. Sunstreaker just scowled over their comm. link, but Prowl assumed Sideswipe was talking him into it. Sideswipe knew his twin was a little vain, and definitely did not want to _apologize_ to_ any_ mech for Primus' sake. The red twin smiled and looked back at Prowl.

Prowl's smile grew wider and placed the datapad in a drawer, only to pull out another one. "Now," he said, scanning over it. "Would either of you care to tell me just _how_ exactly you, Bluestreak, and Wheeljack managed to escape the brig?"

_*Oh slag...*_ they both thought. They were screwed; there was no way to get themselves out of this one. Sunstreaker opened his mouth to speak, then shut it, then chuckled nervously.

"Primus... um, well..."

"The energon ropes," chirped Sideswipe, ignoring Sunstreaker's vicious glare.

"What about the energon ropes, Sides?"

"They weren't tight enough; we were able to cut right through them. They fell off, and were still hot enough to saw through the brig poles."

Prowl stroked his chin while absorbing Sideswipe's words. "Hm..." he said after a long pause. "And you... just decided to come clean with that?" Prowl knew the twins were anything but honest... he really couldn't tell if he was pulling his leg, as the humans say, or lying to get out of this predicament. At the moment, Sideswipe seemed to be telling the truth. He glanced over at Sunstreaker, who's glare seemed to have lessened and was now focused on Prowl.

Sideswipe nodded his helm. "I think that since we were still seduced at the time, we shouldn't receive as big of a punishment as usual, right?"

Prowl laughed and stored the datapad away. He rubbed the back of his neck, lowering his servo and looking at the twins one last time. "Well... I suppose that since you both seem uneased by the whole apology ordeal, and that Sideswipe is technically correct, that the apology should be punishment enough. What do ya say? Or should I add something else?"

Both twins waved their servos defensively. "No, no..." they chanted. "No, I think that's bad enough..."

Prowl chuckled again as he stood up, the twins doing the same. "Alright," he said. "Alright, you're free to go." He pressed the key pad and the doors swooshed open, revealing the long-wanted hallway and fresh air to cycle. Sideswipe was gone before Prowl even turned around, Sunstreaker slyly making his way forward.

"Don't make me hunt you down, alright?" Prowl added coolly. Sunstreaker just smirked and nodded, the doors eventually closing behind him as he left the tactician's office.

* * *

><p>"<em>Why<em> did you tell him _that?_" he nearly yelled at Sideswipe as he caught up with him.

"Would you lower your voice?" he whispered back harshly. "Obviously the ropes seemed impossible to cut because they weren't tight enough."

"Exactly!" he snapped back in a whisper. "So why'd you say they weren't tight enough?"

"_Because_, bolt butt, maybe they'll tighten them so next time we're in the brig, the ropes will be easier to cut!"

Sunstreaker sighed as they continued walking down the hallway. "_That_ was your big plan? How do we know they'll even give us ropes next time? Then we won't have anything to saw the poles with!"

Sideswipe was silent for a klik. "Well, that's the chance we take. Maybe this means we'll be able to do something more dangerous and worthy of being tied up when we're thrown in the brig. "

Sunstreaker just scoffed as they neared the rec room. "You've got some serious screws up your aft... but I love the way the think."


	16. Chapter 16: The Final Clicking

Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Nanoklik= about 30 Earth seconds, Klik= about one Earth minute, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks, Vorn= 83 years

**Basis:** G1

**Pairings:** TwinsxBluestreak, RatchetxIronhide, ProwlxJazz

lol, my automatic grammar-fixer thing wanted to change 'TwinsxBluestreak' to Bluestocking. xD... thought I would share that funny random tidbit.

mechsmut, whoo!

ANYWHO. Here ya go... last chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>[May 9th - 5:58 PM]<p>

Ratchet walked into his quarters tiredly. Ironhide sat on his berth, watching him stagger towards him.

"Are ya alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine... just tired..." He sat down next to Ironhide and leaned against the wall. Ironhide wrapped his arm around him and traced his digit over the medic's upper arm, making him sink into the warrior's touch. "... So many..." he whispered to himself.

Ironhide looked down, wondering if he heard right. "So many what?" he whispered back.

"...So many mechs... apologies... I can't believe all the mechs who've apologized. There's you, Perceptor, Bee, Hound, Mirage, Prowl, the twins... Wheeljack no doubt will as soon as he finally onlines..." Ratchet's voice started rising, and Ironhide could tell he was tense. He stroked his upper arm more soothingly, and then shifted behind him so Ratchet sat in between his legs. He reached up both servos and rubbed the medic's neck cables, massaging them and relieving the tension from his frame.

Ratchet offlined his optics and closed his mouth. He rocked gently with Ironhide's movements, smiling slightly as his back neck cables were pressed in to and pain seeped out of his frame.

Ironhide pulled the digits away and wrapped his servos around Ratchet's abdomen, pulling him towards him so he collapsed into the red mech's frame. Ratchet kept his optics offlined; he just enjoyed the peace and quiet, the warmth from Ironhide's body, the sudden relaxation flooding his circuits for the first time in vorns... Ironhide kissed the top of his helm very lightly, and laid against the wall, offlining his optics with Ratchet in his arms.

* * *

><p>[May 9th - 9:05 PM]<p>

The twins walked into the rec room for the fifth time that joor. Bluestreak had managed to escape their view whenever they were looking for him, and they finally spotted him sitting at a booth and talking to Hound. The gunner and scout had obviously made up themselves already, although Blue hadn't done much other than straddle him and kiss his neck.

Bluestreak, sitting facing the doorway, looked up and nearly frowned at the two frontliners. Hound noticed the smile suddenly disappear, and turned to look where the grey mech was staring.

Sunstreaker continued walking towards the two, Sideswipe following him and sitting down next to Hound as his twin sat next to Blue. Both mechs stopped right in the middle on their conversation, giving their full attention on the twins, wanted or unwanted.

"Pardon me, gentle-mechs," Sunny said with a sly smile. "But I believe we have some actions in need of portraying on this handsome gunner of yours."

Hound smiled as he realized what they were talking about. "Of course..." he replied kinkily, smirking at Bluestreak as he wide-opticed desperately at the scout. "I was just leaving anyway." Sideswipe stood up and let Hound out of the booth, taking his place as the jeep exited the rec room.

Sunstreaker wrapped his arm around Bluestreak and pulled him closer, nipping his audio receptor. "You know..." he whispered, Bluestreak almost shaking with nervousness. "Our punishment from Prowl was to apologize to you... But I think _you're_ the one who's going to suffer the results of that punishment."

Blue shivered as Sunny dipped two digits into wires in the base of his neck. He glanced over at Sideswipe, who in turn was glaring back with a smirk and optics darkened with arousal. "C'mon..." he piped up. "Why are you so nervous, Blue?"

"Because! You two were the ones who infected me earlier... and you know I'm not too happy with you..."

"Awww..." said Sunstreaker into his neck. "Well that's not very fun... we _want_ you to be happy with us... let us make you happy. Let us _pleasure_ you..."

Bluestreak grunted as Sunny's lips met his, wanting to deny his arousal building up. But he couldn't... Primus, he hated when the twins did this...

He found himself being pulled out of the booth by yellow servos, red ones coming from behind as he stood on his pedes. He was being pushed out the doors, several other mechs watching them as they left. Bluestreak struggled in the twins' grasps, but said nothing the whole way to their quarters. He wanted this so badly... but he also was trying to fight against it as much as he could... He wanted to stay mad at them. All of a sudden, lips were ferociously kissing his, another pair sucking on his chevron quite nicely.

Blue gasped as he hit the twins' quarter's floor, four servos lavishing feeling his frame up and down, dipping into seems and sending pleasurable pulses through his body.

He looked up at Sunstreaker who was hovering above him, watching him squirm, as Sideswipe nipped at his neck upside-down. "Nngg..." he grunted, struggling as Sunstreaker gripped his wrists to hold him still. "Please, guys... s-stop..."

Sunny pushed the trapped servos behind Blue's helm, Sideswipe snapping on the handcuffs and letting the servos fall to the floor. He came around to accompany his brother, both twins looking down upon their helpless lover.

"Why would we want to do that? We know you want this... We want it too," Sunny replied, dipping down and claiming his lips again. Bluestreak huffed with frustration and pleasure at the same time, wishing desperately that they would just frag him and get this over with.

"We're just _apologizing..._" murmured Sideswipe as he picked up the gunner from behind and sat against the wall, sitting Blue in his lap with his back against his own chassis. He groped at his panel, his other servo exploring his frame with lust. Sunstreaker played along the rim of his panel with his own digits, and it finally clicked open with a whimper from the grey mech.

Both twins simultaneously snapped open their panels, both spikes emerging already fully-pressurized. Sunny groaned quietly as the tip of his spike swiped over the entrance to Bluestreak's valve, now dripping wet with lubricant. Bluestreak let out another grunt as he felt Sideswipe's hot spike rub against his own erected one, the red twin wanting him more helpless as he threw Blue's handcuffed servos behind his own helm, making him hold on to the back of his neck plating.

"Ohh..." he let out, finally pushing his spike upwards into that clenching, wet valve awaiting him. Bluestreak clung onto Sideswipe's neck, gritting his denta at the intrusion.

Sunstreaker urged his own spike forward, only to have his twin press a servo to his chassis to get him to stop. "Wait till I get him slicked up..." he rasped, starting to thrust his spike and rocking Bluestreak every time. Sunstreaker huffed, impatiently watching his twin fragging their lover senseless.

It was attractive, though; he didn't _not_ like watching his brother's spike thrust in and out of their shared lover so deeply, their arousing facial expressions, listening to those sweet suction noises and grunts of effort.

It wasn't long before Bluestreak keened, teetering on the very edge of a hard overload. He bounced up and down on the large spike, Sideswipe gasping as Blue bucked wildly and his valve clenched unbearably tight around his spike, finally overloading. Sideswipe thrusted deeper until he overloaded, making Bluestreak cry out as his transfluid shot up inside the still-overloading mech.

Sideswipe let out a high-pitched sigh as their overload subsided and Bluestreak somewhat relaxed in his lap. He looked up his twin, smiling at Sunny's look of desperation and heavy arousal. "Alright..." he panted. "Go for it..."

The yellow Lambo smirked as Bluestreak shot his helm up from resting on Sideswipe's shoulder. "W-What? What are you - "

He cried out at Sunny's spike joined his brother's, having two large, hot spikes pushing through his valve in sync. "Ahhh...ahh..." he panted, servos pulling on the back of Sideswipe's neck.

The red twin licked his neck cables, nipping at them lovingly. "Relax..." he whispered. "Remember, this is just our apology..."

"S-Some ap-pology!" he exclaimed, Sunstreaker propping himself up on Bluestreak's hip plating. He softly kissed him, nipping his lips passionately.

"We love you, Blue..." he whispered, kissing him deeper. Bluestreak really now couldn't deny how good the kiss felt; the twins were usually so much more... adventurous. Rough. Not soft like this kiss... Sunstreaker reached a servo up to play with the gunner's doorwing, making him shiver. Sideswipe sucked lightly on his chevron, the mech bucking into Sunstreaker's spike accidentally as sensors exploded throughout his body.

He literally felt like he was being tortured. Both knew their actions were making him aroused like crazy, desperate to overload. But they kept dragging them out... they kept their agonizingly-slow pace in his valve, setting off sensors repeatedly.

Sunstreaker drew away from his doorwing to hold himself up on the hip plating as he thrusted deeper, Bluestreak begging them to take him harder. Sideswipe thrusted faster, reaching his climax quickly as Blue begged with every thrust.

"Primus..." Sunny managed, panting as his spike rubbed against Sideswipe's as they thrusted as hard as they could go. "I didn't... know you were this kinky..."

Bluestreak keened, bucking harshly and panting loudly as Sideswipe overloaded once again, followed by the gunner himself. He tugged on the back of Sideswipe's neck, riding the amazing spikes as long as possible, screaming with pleasure as he overloaded _hard_. The transfluid coating the valve and his spike along with the incredibly tight hole clenching on him made Sunstreaker overload at last, bucking deeply into Bluestreak as the pleasure consumed them all.

Silence save for panting and cycling of air filled the darkened room. Sunstreaker pulled out of Bluestreak very slowly, making both Blue and Sideswipe gasp. The red Lambo then followed, letting Bluestreak slump in his lap and offline his optics.

"Ohhh..." he sighed eventually, onlining his optics and looking down at Sunstreaker who had laid down on the floor in exhaustion. He then felt digits play with his wrist, and felt the handcuffs release his servos.

Sideswipe kissed his neck again, offlining his optics and thumping against the wall, all three mechs too tired to even make it to the berth.

The red twin slid down to the floor as Bluestreak did the same, Sunstreaker crawling a mere two feet to join them; all three offlined and sank into recharge, laying in the floor.

* * *

><p>Ratchet onlined with a gasp and shot upwards.<p>

He focused his optics on where he was; he realized he was just in his quarters, on his berth, sitting upright with some mech behind him...

Ironhide onlined as Ratchet jumped out of recharge. "What is it?" he asked bleary-opticed, servos still resting on the medic's chassis.

Ratchet took a deep cycle and returned to his position on his lover. "Nothing... I can't believe I actually recharged for over four cycles..."

Ironhide chuckled. "You're okay, any mech in danger would have woken ya. Besides, you needed it desperately."

Ratchet sighed and turned his helm to look out his quarter doors into the empty med bay, save for Wheeljack who was still in stasis in the opposite spare room. "I suppose... I don't think I've gotten a good-night's recharge in, at least an orn..."

Ironhide rubbed his upper arms and kissed his shoulder. "Go back to recharging, Ratch... I'll keep ya company," he said, smiling.

Ratchet just smiled back and moved out between Ironhide's leg so he sat next to him on the berth. He slid down and faced Ironhide as the warrior did the same, wrapping an arm around the medic's waist. "Isn't that better?" he teased.

He smirked in reply, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. He offlined his optics as he pulled away, drifting off into recharge again almost instantly, snuggled up to his lover.

Ironhide offlined his optics, but could never enter recharge. He always kept jumping back online, and it started to annoy him. He eventually managed to stay offline for about a 10 kliks, but then onlined with a sharp pain in his shoulder.

He sat up, careful not to wake up Ratchet, and slid off the berth. Why the slag did his shoulder hurt all of a sudden? he asked himself as he walked into Ratchet's quarter's wash room. He glanced at himself in the mirror, and noticed his infected shoulder plating had for some reason swelled up. He lightly pressed a digit to it, jumping again at the pain.

His thought to keep Ratchet recharging didn't pull through, though; Ratchet walked into the wash room to see what the mech was doing.

"Oh!" he shouted, jumping across the wash room to observe the swollen shoulder plate. "What happened?"

"Calm down, Ratch... I bet it's just the infection."

Ratchet scoffed. "The infec - exactly, 'Hide! Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I just now noticed it!"

Ratchet huffed and ran out the wash room. He returned within a matter a seconds with a jar and metal brush, unscrewing the lid as he walked in and dipping the brush into the substance. He pulled it out and gently applied it to the infection, making Ironhide hiss and nearly pull back in defense.

"Hold still..." he murmured, focusing on the burnt-looking plating. "It may sting for a bit, considering your shoulder was quite infected, but it should help bring the swelling down."

Ironhide relaxed a bit as Ratchet pulled the brush away. He looked at his almost-black shoulder plate, now covered in a thick, blue goo that made it sting more than it already did. He looked up at Ratchet who was screwing the lid back on and walking out of the room.

Ironhide staggered over to the berth, laying down so his bad shoulder faced the open air and didn't touch Ratchet. The medic finally climbed up and laid down beside him, resting a servo over the warrior's abdomen. Ironhide slid his own servo under Ratchet's side, stroking his backstrut lightly as he leaned down and kissed his helm.

"Thank you..." he muttered after a few kliks.

"That's what I do," Ratchet replied as he looked up. He kissed him on the lips and buried his faceplate into Ironhide's neck, offlining his optics once again and slipping into recharge.

Ironhide smiled as he offlined his optics, finally being able to recharge as well.

* * *

><p>[May 10th - 6:50 AM]<p>

As Ironhide stepped into the rec room, Jazz ran right past him, making him stop in his tracks.

Before he could process what was happening, Prowl shortly followed, shouting at Jazz and laughing. Multiple mechs were watching, laughing along with them, as Jazz reached the opposite side of the room and hid behind Warpath.

"I still see you..." he chuckled, a little breathless from chasing him. Warpath just laughed louder, Cliffjumper and Bumblebee falling out of their booth, laughing hysterically.

Ironhide just watched with bewildered optics, smiling as he made his way towards an empty booth with Ratchet following him. "What are they up to?" asked Ratchet, staring as Prowl leaped for Jazz and tackled him to the ground.

"Beats me," Ironhide replied, still smiling. Prowl eventually had Jazz on his pedes, panting and almost struggling to be free. Prowl practically pulled him out the doors, the two along with everyone else laughing like crazy.

After a while, when the two left the rec room, Ironhide went up and came back with two cubes on energon. Sipping it, Ratchet asked a question to break the silence. "Wasn't Prowl the one who gave you that infection, 'Hide?"

Ironhide looked up. "Hm? Oh... I, um... I don't know; now that I think of it, I do remember something," he said slowly. "I think you're right..."

He looked back down at his energon and swirled a digit in it thoughtfully.

"It's alright Ironhide, we already know everything happened because of the disease, I just wanted to make sure my thoughts weren't messed up."

Ironhide looked up again. "I know..." he mumbled in a chuckle. "I wonder if _he_ remembers... He hasn't been talkin' to me lately..."

"I'm sure it's just because you two haven't been around each other or had any missions together. He knows it was just your infected CPU."

Ironhide smiled at Ratchet and sipped at his energon once more, gazing into those big, blue optics across from him. Ratchet smiled back and did the same, hoping for his lover that Prowl wasn't holding a grudge against him.

* * *

><p>"Prowl!" Jazz shrieked as the tactician found his hotspot and pressed three digits in its very center. He bucked up instantly into his lover above him, gripping onto his arms tightly as he pressed the digits in again.<p>

"Mmmm..." he said, leaning down to kiss his jaw. "You're so aroused... I don't think I've seen you so aroused before. Gonna have to give it to you nice and _rough_... just how you _love_ it..." he whispered almost evilly yet kinkily.

Jazz just whimpered and threw his helm back as his hotspot was attacked over and over again. Every time Prowl pressed just one digit in the center of his lower side, he bucked harshly upwards, making his lover laugh.

Prowl lowered a servo down to rub Jazz's interface panel, kissing him once more. It finally clicked back, revealing the saboteur's fairly wet valve clenching, begging for Prowl's throbbing spike... the tactician snapped open his own as he tilted his helm to kiss him more passionately. Jazz grunted as he kissed back, desperate for pleasure to take him.

Prowl pulled away with a smirk, pressing three digits in Jazz's valve at the same time and watching his facial expressions grow kinkier. "I love you..." he whispered as he leaned down to nip his horn on his helm, loving the sound of his lover's whimpers and cries. Jazz just huffed; he was too hazed for words.

Just then the saboteur cried out as Prowl gripped his spike tight but lovingly, pumping it, faster as he heard Jazz start to pant and buck. "Oh... Oh... nnggg... P-"

"I want _yours_," he commanded, pumping it harder until Jazz yelped and begged him to stop. He slowly lessened his grip and aligned it with his own wet valve, lowering himself onto the throbbing, hot spike.

Jazz moaned at Prowl's sexy facial expressions, jaw agape and groaning slightly as Jazz's spike penetrated him ever so slowly. The tip finally popped through the platelets, and the tactician eventually had himself fully situated on the beautiful spike. "Ohhh..." he moaned, looking down into his lover's visor. "Come on... thrust..."

Jazz barely smiled, feeling almost too far gone to do anything but frag him to the pit. He started up in a slow rolling motion, making Prowl keen in pleasure as he hit the same sensor node repeatedly. Earlier, Prowl was too aroused to even remember to put handcuffs on Jazz, though he didn't necessarily mind since it let him pleasure Prowl more affectionately. He gripped one servo on the edge on the berth to push himself up for every thrust, while the other clung onto Prowl's hip plating for extra support. Prowl supported himself up on Jazz's shoulders with two shaking servos, weakened with arousal.

Jazz picked up the pace, grunted softly and quietly as he felt his spike pressurize even more, ready to burst with transfluid. It was too much; he needed to overload _now_, he thought. He looked up into Prowl's optics, more than desperate to reach his climax due to extra help from his lover, but realized the tactician was right on the edge of his own overload.

He gasped as Prowl's valve clenched so tight it barely let Jazz thrust anymore, the SIC gasping and panting like mad as he toppled over the edge in a hard overload. He bucked vigorously on Jazz's spike, he himself desperate for Jazz to overload.

The saboteur cried out, thrusting as hard as he could go, fully focusing on his spike so it would overload inside of Prowl. But he couldn't; why wouldn't it work? he screamed at himself. He bucked harder, forcing Prowl to ride his spike even deeper and faster.

"Prowl!" he panted. "Prowl, I... *huff* I can't! Nngg... Agghhh... Oh..."

Prowl's overloaded eventually died off, and his bucking decreased as he wiggled around on Jazz's still-thrusting spike. "You... You're too aroused..." he gasped, optics resetting back to normal and looking down at Jazz.

Jazz wanted to cry; frustration raced through his circuits, arousal flooding them. Just one overload... he begged, continuing his frantic thrusting. Prowl pressed a servo on his chassis to get him to stop, Jazz whimpering at the feeling of overload there but not releasing...

"Don't worry," he laughed. "I'll help you..." He opened his subspace and pulled at a long, spike-shaped machine with a switch, but it was smaller than the average spike. He flipped the switch up, and the machine started to vibrate in Prowl's servo.

Jazz whimpered again, optics nearly indigo with arousal at the thought of that vibrator inside him, making him overload,_ along_ with Prowl's spike... dear Primus, he thought.

Jazz clung onto the back of Prowl's upper arms, reaching behind so they grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer. "Take me... so hard..._ please..._" he rasped, vocals choking up.

Prowl smirked and rubbed the tip of the vibrator along the entrance of Jazz's valve, making him shudder. "I plan on it..." he replied slyly. He pressed the running vibrator inside the slick valve, pushing it in deeper so it didn't slide out of the fairly slick hole.

He scooted upwards so his spike rested on Jazz's lips, the saboteur eagerly licking it, bringing it in to suck it. "Yes..." Prowl gasped. "Suck me... make me overload in your mouth..." He panted as Jazz sucked him off in that professional way he seemed to have picked up, making Prowl groan in pleasure.

"Now..." he started breathlessly. "When I o...overload, keep it in your mouth, alright?" he asked.

Jazz looked up and nodded, smiling slightly with Prowl's spike deep down his throat. "Mmhm..." he mumbled, making suction noises to please his lover.

"Ahhhh... then swallow it... _after_ you overload..." he finished hoarsely.

Jazz moaned as Prowl thrusted slightly, hitting the back of his throat. The vibrator continued rubbing around his valve walls, making Jazz twitch and buck when it hit a specific sensor. "Oh!" he muffled as the vibrator repeatedly hit the same sensor node, making him thrust his body upwards into Prowl as his spike slid deeper down his throat column.

Prowl bucked more harshly, teetering on the edge of overload in Jazz's clenching throat. He threw his helm back, groaning, begging Jazz to suck him harder until he finally overloaded.

Jazz muffled out a gasp and nearly choked as Prowl's hot transfluid spilled out in his mouth. He did his best to not swallow it, focusing on closing his throat as Prowl shrieked and 'fluid oozed out around his lips.

Prowl cupped his servos around Jazz's mouth as he pulled his spike out when his overload subsided. "Keep it in..." he whispered, leaning down and kissing his 'fluid-covered lips. Jazz just moaned through his closed mouth. Prowl sunk down so his spike lined up with Jazz's dripping valve, watching it clench in on itself, desperate to overload from that slow-riding vibrator. "Primus..." he whispered to himself, leaning down to lick the tip of the vibrator that was slipping its way out. Jazz bucked again and again, grasping Prowl's arms as he dipped his glossa in and out, teasing and stimulating his throbbing valve.

"I know..." he said as he pulled away. "You're fine... I'll help you," he chuckled.

And with that he sat upright and positioned his spike at the valve entrance, watching it clench eagerly as it felt the tip slowly enter. Prowl felt his spike touch the vibrator and continued pushing forward, making Jazz cry out as it rubbed against the back valve wall.

Jazz really wanted to just sob - he felt like he was about to explode if he didn't overload soon, and like he would explode _when_ he overloaded. He kept bucking into Prowl until the tactician pressed a servo on his chassis and kept him still. "Relax," he heard through heavy-cycling vocals.

Jazz again found himself panting, feeling Prowl's spike pick up the pace and the vibrator helping him. Prowl grunted as the metal device stopped him from going any further, wanting to push further anyway but not wanting to hurt his lover. He started to pant as he thrusted in and out, rocking Jazz with his movements, listening to his whimpering.

"Ohhh..." Jazz let out, pressing his lips together as he raised his helm to watch Prowl's spike slide in and out, covered with his own transfluid. Prowl chuckled and upped the pace, grasping Jazz's hip plating as the saboteur's servos clenched tighter around his arms.

"Oh... Jazz... I'm almost there..." Prowl panted, thrusting harder. Jazz keened and tossed his helm back, riding the spike almost painfully, the vibrator seeming to rub deeper as well. He cried out again, so close to overload, optics tearing up as he bucked harshly with Prowl's movements. He raised his helm again, gasping desperately, so close...

"Prowl... " he gurgled, transfluid spilling out of his mouth. "Prowl... PLEASE! AGGHHH..."

"I..." was all he could pant in reply before Jazz screamed and tears bursted from his optics. He bucked wildly into Prowl, screaming and sobbing as he overloaded quite hard, back arching high off the berth as his visor went white and transfluid erupted over the berth and Prowl's spike, clenching his servos and valve so tight and so fast it made Prowl choke out a gasp. Transfluid flowed down his lips and cheek plates.

The tactician finally overloaded, transfluid shooting up Jazz's valve and making his lover scream and buck again. "Nnnggg..." he keened, gritting his denta as he tried to thrust as hard and fast as he could through that unbelievably tight port.

Jazz gasped as Prowl finally quit thrusting, both their overloads eventually subsiding and letting them catch their breath. "Dear Primus..." Prowl choked, petting Jazz's twitching hips. He looked down at him; tears still flowed down his cheek plating as he cycled air almost desperately as he swallowed the surprisingly large amount of remaining transfluid. After a nanoklik or so he pulled out his spike, Jazz moaning at the sudden movement in his extra-sensitive valve. He reached in gently with two digits to pull out the vibrator, switching it off and throwing it on the ground. He closed his and Jazz's panels and laid down next to him, wrapping a servo around his rising abdomen.

"Sweet... _Cybertron_..." Jazz eventually rasped, sniffling and drying his tears. Prowl smiled and reached up a servo, wiping the excess tears away with his thumb. "Thank you..." he whispered to Prowl.

The tactician just laughed. "Don't thank _me_... it was _you_ who made it intense; I had no idea you were that aroused."

Jazz smiled as he cycled air more normally. "Well _you_ started it by gropin' me in the rec room, then kissed me right in front o' every mech! Not to mention chasing me around until you caught me and brought me back here," he smirked.

Prowl softly chuckled as he kissed his neck, trailing his lips up his jaw until he met his lips, kissing him passionately. The kiss lasted for a few good kliks before Jazz pulled away and began to speak.

"But thank you anyway... for helping me..."

"Not a problem... I loved it. Come to think of it, I don't think I've made you burst into tears for quite a while now."

Jazz chuckled and sank his faceplate into his lover's neck and kissed it. "Can't recall..." he said, and offlined his optics. "'Night, Prowler," he laughed.

"I wish..." he muttered, smiling brightly. "I'd love to ban my post and stay with you, but we both have our duties."

Jazz huffed and sat up as Prowl followed. "Alright, fine... But you owe me tonight."

"Alright, alright," he teased, kissing his lips once more before he made his way off the berth and out of their quarters, Jazz following him with his pleasantly-aching valve.

* * *

><p>[May 10th - 12:45 PM]<p>

Returning from patrol, Prowl walked right into the rec room and headed straight the energon dispenser. When he turned around he didn't see very many mechs, so he sat down at an empty booth and pulled out a datapad.

He looked up from sipping his energon as a large, red mech appeared out of nowhere, towering over him, and sitting down across from him. "Hello, Ironhide," he said as he looked back down at his datapad, said mech thinking the tactician didn't look too happy.

"'Afternoon, Prowl," he replied quietly. Prowl eventually looked back up at the seemingly-nervous mech, and set his datapad down.

"Something wrong, Ironhide?"

"Oh, no... no, just trying to remember everything that happened in the past week..."

"Hmm..." he muttered, gazing at the warrior and playing his glossa in his energon. "I remember some things."

Ironhide looked up at the smiling SIC. "Why are you laughing?" he asked.

"_Because_... it's clear you're extremely nervous about nothing. Aren't you referring to our little incident before our recon mission?"

Ironhide's jaw stayed slightly agape as he nodded, finally shutting it. "Well, 'Hide, you know I know it was just the disease, right?" he laughed.

"I- I guess..." he stuttered. "Um... so you're n-not mad? When I came over here you looked really peeved at me..."

Prowl smirked again. "Nah, I'm just exhausted. Jazz tired me out this morning..." But his smile suddenly dropped as he realized what he just said. He couldn't ignore Ironhide's sly, large grin creeping across his faceplate, knowing from the words and what he saw this morning exactly what he was talking about.

"Alright, Prowl," he said, standing up. Prowl tried to speak with pink-flushed cheekplates, but shut his mouth and giggled slightly. "I'm really glad we're okay."

"Of course," he replied, picking up his datapad and scanning over it. "Me too."

Ironhide walked out of the rec room just as Jazz ran in. He saw Prowl right away and sat across from him, Prowl offering his energon to the panting saboteur. Jazz chugged it, gasping as he set it down. "What on Cybertron have you been doing?" Prowl asked him, laughing at his actions.

"Just stealth practice... Nothin' much."

"Hmm..." he murmured. He kept reading his datapad, his smile never leaving his faceplate. He looked up a while later, only to see Jazz in total recharge with his helm resting on the booth's table. He read over the last section, hearing the birds chirping loudly but peacefully outside the open Ark windows.

'...the overall outcome of this disaster was fortunate enough to not have any major interruptions from the Decepticons...' he read, his CPU just scanning the major details until he found himself watching the Earth birds chirp on a tree branch just outside the window.

He observed the bird, black-feathered with red on its wings. It wasn't until the bird turned to the side when Prowl noticed the blue stain on its wing. He set the datapad down and stood up, walking slowly over to the bird as not to scare him away. When he got close enough, he stopped, staring at the blue substance with wide optics.

_*More Cryn's?*_ he thought. _*From where?*_ He stepped a pede closer, merely a foot away from the bird until it flew away. Prowl watched it take off in the sky, blue goo dripping off its wing.

He scanned the outside perimeter, and realized the bird had flown in from the direct location of the Decepticons' hideout. Finally he put two and two together: the disease, the Decepticon minors, the birds, the birds can _fly_, fly everywhere, transport things... when an infected mech was outside, a bird probably picked up the disease and flew over to the Decepticons, or else brought it back here. That would explain why they had been so quiet lately; they themselves had been infected.

Their major problem now was if the Earth creatures would spread the disease across the planet - he just prayed that organics would be immune to a robotic organism's disease.

Ratchet had mentioned something about that... he thought there was something in that datapad.

"Well Ratchet," he finally said to himself in the empty room save for Jazz. "I guess you're right... Looks like the birds made the beasts after all."

* * *

><p><strong>-FIN-<strong> xP


End file.
